The Fighter
by MoiraCPercy
Summary: With the death of her father, Katniss Everdeen struggles to keep a roof over her family's head and food in their bellies. But when she finds a job at a local Chicago gym, she meets a blonde haired boxer who's past is as dark as hers. Will their pasts pull them together? Will the things they have in common lead them to grow closer than they ever thought was possible? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**AN* Here is a new story that I have wanted to write about for a long time now. It was inspired by the song The Fighter by Gym Class Heroes. It will be a very angst, drama filled story. But trust me, it's not the stupid High School drama. Sorry. **

**I changed a few minor detals for the story, like Katniss' father just died a year prior to the story. And at first, Peeta is going to be a little more 'Shy' so to speak, because of his past. **

**And for those of you wondering about my other story, "Love Story in Aspen", I will be updating that very soon, so look for the update. The story will be ending soon, I just couldn't resist writing this one. **

**So anyway, please review and tell me what you think of the story. I love to hear your guy's opinion. :) **

Chapter 1

My grip on the pole tightens as the subway car rocks back and forth, my body swaying with it. As we enter the tunnel, the dim lights switch off, and for a moment I'm disoriented. I can feel the pressure change as we plunge even deeper into the tunnel, and I squeeze my eyes shut, tugging on the end of my long braid to keep the anxiety down. My ears pop as I take a deep breath to keep my breathing steady. I've never been good in tight spaces, but I ride this subway almost every day so I learned to cope as best as I can.

After a few minutes, the lights flicker back on and I glance around. The faded yellow walls of the subway car are chipped and browning around the edges from years of neglect. I don't think anyone has tried to clean this thing since it was built, and the smell of mildew just confirms that, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. No matter how many times I ride the subway, I still cannot get used to the smell.

I've managed to scoot away from people as much as I can, but I can't block out the sight of the guysitting next to me whose glazed-over eyes keep roaming over me. His shirt is stained in disgusting brown splotches of some foreign substance that I'm positive I'm better off not knowing. I think I've seen him here before, almost like he lives in the subway. The scowl that forms on my face in unavoidable. I don't like men like him, the kind that waste away their lives when they could be doing everything in their power to make it better. Their options may be small, but they're there.

I hate the subway, but I ride it because I don't have a choice. My mother can't afford a car. When my father died last year, she died with him. She sits on her bed all day staring at the wall while I take care of my little sister, Prim. I pay the bills, I bring home the food and I take care of our family. Prim begs her to do something, anything, but she never does. She has to be spoon fed.

Sunlight streams through the windows as we exit the tunnel, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My grip loosens on the cool metal pole. The man sitting close by scoots closer, bringing the stench of liquor and poor hygiene with him. Being careful not to fall over in the moving car, I move to the other side to avoid the man. I don't want to deal with him right now. The only thing wrong with this situation is that now I have a better view of him and the bits of food stuck in his untrimmed beard.

I consider sitting down, but decide against it. I only have a few pairs of jeans and I need to keep them as clean as possible. The Laundromat is out of the way from home and I can't afford to waste time walking back and forth. It takes up too much of my time, and any wasted time means wasted money, because for us to survive, my time is our money.

After a few minutes, the subway car screeches to a stop. The motion jerks me forward, my braid almost flying up and slapping me in the face. The man grumbles and shifts in his seat, leaning back, his head lolling to the side. I walk down the car, my pace quickening as I pass the man, and stand in front of the door, waiting for it to release me. I tap my foot impatiently, my fingers playing with the end of my braid.

Finally, the doors open, shrieking loudly as they slide. I practically jump from the car, my feet landing softly on the concrete. I take a deep breath, my lungs filling with mildew-free air. It's not much better outside, the sky full of pollution and a heavy smell of gasoline, but it's still better than the rotting subway car. I look up at the sky, the clouds are dark, a sign of approaching rain, but the air is warm and humid.

As I begin walking out of the subway terminal, I bring my worn, brown leather bag around my waist and bury my hands in it, trying to find the map I printed off at the library the other day. We can't afford internet, so whenever I need direction or information, I have to go the old library down the street. It's a nuisance, but it's necessary.

My fingers curl around the crumbled paper at the bottom of my bag and I pull it out. I smooth it out and examine the roads and street names. My finger trances the lines of the roads and I sigh. I have a few blocks before I reach the gym. Folding the paper back up, I shove it into my back pocket and walk down the gloomy back streets.

I never take the main roads, because being around so many people and honking horns annoys me. They congest the roads like crazy and I would prefer to take the back roads that are riddled with stray cats than the main roads where you're constantly bumping into some sweaty old person with bad breath.

The back of my hand wipes away the sweat building on my forehead from the humidity. Dang, Chicago. I had to pick the time when we're right in the middle of a heat wave to go job hunting. I didn't have a choice, though. It was either this or my family starves, and the gym is one of my last hopes. I was laid off last week from my job at the local grocery store. It was only minimum wage, but with the meat I was able to bring in from hunting, it was enough to pay the bills.

I have been searching for a job ever since, leaving school early to take interviews and send in job applications. I cannot afford to go another week without a paycheck. Our money is already running out, and if I can't find a job soon, we won't be able to pay for the house. I definitely prefer a house to a box on the side of the highway. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever got our family in that situation, especially Prim. She deserves so much more than what we already have. And if anyone finds out that our money is low, our mother basically gone; Prim could be sent to a community home. I can't risk it.

I cut a corner and head down an alley to make the trip shorter. It's dark, the tall brick buildings blocking out the minimal sunlight that had managed to break through the clouds. The air seems even heavier in here, and that claustrophobic feeling begins to fill my chest again. The smell of rotting food in the dumpsters is overwhelming, and I try to breathe through my mouth to make the smell lessen, if only a little.

I pass an old, scraggily cat gnawing on what appears to be a banana peel. It hisses at me, its orange fur sticking straight up, as I step too close to his food. I'm half tempted to hiss right back at it, but I bite my tongue and continue walking. The last thing I need is to get attacked but some stray cat with rabies. That would be just fantastic.

Once I reach the end of the alley I can make out the gym across the street. It looks like it's in an old department store, the grey bricks chipped and falling apart. Its large, three stories and I'm sure that if it could be haunted, it would. There's an old rusted sign hanging by the wide double doors that reads, 'Downtown Chicago Gym.' I roll my eyes at the name. There is never anything original here.

After checking for any approaching cars, I jog across the street, my bag flopping against my side with each step. As I approach the door, I can barely see through the dirt-covered glass, and a scowl finds its way to my face. I grab the handle, and after a strong jerk, the door flies open and cool air rushes against my warm face. At least they have a working air conditioning.

It looks smaller inside than it does from the outside, but it's still large. The smell of sweat was obvious the moment the door swung open. To the left is a row of treadmills, a few occupied, running along the wall with some other equipment toward the middle of the room. On the right side is a boxing ring. Standing in the middle is a boy with blond curls throwing punches at a man with padded guards covering his body. The boy is quick, easily deflecting any punch directed at him.

My eyes tear away from the activity in the ring when I hear shuffling at the counter next to me. I look over to see a young woman with flowing brown hair picking up a scatter of papers that she must have dropped. I walk over to her and bend down to help her pick them up. She looks up, a shocked expression on her face before it quickly turns to a warm smile. She mumbles a soft "thank you", to which I just nod my head.

We stand up once the papers are gathered and I hand the pile in my hands over to her. She takes them and walks around to stand behind the wooden counter. Pushing aside pencils and clipboards, she makes a spot for the paper and plops them down with a loud thud. She looks up at me and smiles, her green eyes almost hidden behind her bangs.

"Can I help you?" She asks politely.

I nod my head and pull out my prepared application. I hand it to her and say, "I'm looking for a job and I was hoping you were hiring."

Her eyes scan the paper and she nods slowly. "I'm not sure if we're hiring right now, but let me call the manager and ask. One moment." She says as she sticks out a finger, motioning for me to wait. She grabs the phone, dials a number, and waits while it rings.

After a few rings, a muffled voice on the other end answers.

"Are we hiring?" The girl asks. There's a long pause as she listens to the manager. She nods occasionally, her eyes flickering from me to the pens on the counter.

My eyes wonder as I wait. They fall back onto the boxing ring to find the blond headed boy sitting on a foldout chair in the far corner. Another man stands above him, water bottle in hand as he tosses a white towel at the boy. He chuckles as he catches the towel and says something to man, but they're too far away for me to catch it.

"Okay, I will." She says eventually, turning my attention back to her and she hangs up the phone.

She walks around the counter and makes a motion for me to follow her. I do so, and she leads me around the corner to a closed door that reads "Manager".

She pulls it open and tells me to go inside.

I take a step inside, my eyes landing on the man in front of me, feet propped up on the his desk as he leans back in his chair. I hear the door close behind me, but I don't turn around to look because I know it was the girl leaving. The man motions me forward, pointing to the old wooden chair in front of his desk. I take a few steps forward, carefully sitting in the chair so it won't break. The man holds up a piece of paper, his face hidden behind it. I assume it's my application.

This man reminds me of the one of the train—untrimmed beard, stains all over his white tee shirt and the heavy scent of alcohol; no doubt a constant drinker. He sets the paper down on his desk and removes his feet from the desk. He leans forward, resting his elbows down, his grey eyes piercing mine.

"So you want a job?" He says coolly.

I have to bite my tongue to keep my comeback down, because why else would I be sitting here with my application right in front of him? I realize that this has basically become a job interview, so it would probably be best if I didn't get on his bad side. I give him a curt nod and his eyes narrow before he takes my application into his hands again.

"What's your name?" He asks. I feel like just pointing to the top of the paper, because I know it's there, but I decide not to.

"Katniss Everdeen."

"You got laid off from your last job?" He ask, his eyes never leaving the paper.

"Yes." I say simply, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. His eyes flicker to mine and he nods, one hand coming up to scratch his beard.

"We probably won't be able to pay you as much as your last job. You'll most likely be cleaning equipment and the locker rooms." He says.

"Okay." I say, trying not to sound too excited just to get my hopes up. I really don't care what the job is as long as I get paid. He eyes me skeptically, his eyes uncertain.

"Why are you here? Most girls your age prefer to work in cafés rather than in sweaty gyms."

"That's none of your business." I say, trying to keep as much irritation as I can out of my voice.

"It is my business if it turns out the minute you end up scrubbing the toilets, you bolt." He says as he leans closer on the desk, his finger pointing at me, his voice harsh as his eyes narrow.

"I don't care if I have to scrub the toilets with my bare hands. As long as I get paid, you don't have to worry. And I will keep my personal reasons my own." I tell him harshly, my eyes mirroring his.

He leans back in his seat, his eyes back on my application. I seriously hope I didn't just blow any chances I had at getting this job out the window. I can't hiss at him every time he gets on my nerves. This is too important. I remove the scowl from my face, managing to keep my lips in a straight line, hoping it will discard my previous actions.

"Well, you seem qualified enough. Why were you laid off?" He asks.

"It's a bad economy." I say, keeping my voice even.

He grunts in agreement, mumbling something under his breath. His feet return to his desk as he sets my application down, folding his hands on his lap. He stares at me for a moment, his grey eyes studying mine. I keep a straight face, unwilling to let my scowl show him how much he's irritating me.

"Okay. I'll hire you. But you better keep your word and not bolt on me the moment I make you do something you don't like." He tells me sternly.

I nod my head, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, but I won't let it show yet. "I won't." I assure him.

He grunts. "We'll see. You got spunk, sweetheart but you better watch that temper of yours."

"Fine." I tell him.

"You start on Monday. I'll have Annie train you. My name is Haymitch Abernathy, and if we're lucky, we won't see each other that often." He says with a smirk. I'm not sure if it was a joke or not, but I can't help but agree with him. I would be perfectly happy if I had the pleasure of ignoring him the whole time I'm here.

I stand up, the chair creaking below me, and give him a nod. He eyes me again. "Not much of a talker are you?" He asks.

"Not if I can help it." I reply, my eyes locked on his.

He gives a cold laugh, running a hand through his dark, messy hair, but doesn't say anything more. I take that as an opportunity to leave, so I turn my back on him and exit his office, closing the door behind me.

I walk around the corner and the front desk comes into view. The same girl is still there, looking flustered as she searches around her desk. My eyes shift to the boy standing in front of the counter, the same one who was in the boxing ring. He signs something on a clip board as he chuckles at the girl. She gives him a sheepish smile and takes the paper he hands her.

I try to sneak around them, hoping they won't notice me. It doesn't work. The girl's voice pulls me to a stop and turn around to face her. "How did it go?" She asks, the boy turning around to see who she's talking to, and I notice how bright his eyes are; an incredible shade of blue.

"Good. I'm hired." I say, my eyes flickering between her and the door.

"That's great. So I guess we'll be seeing each other soon. I'm Annie, by the way." She says with a smile. So she's the one who's going to train me. "And this is Peeta." She says, motioning to the boy. He gives me a small smile and I nod at him. "He doesn't work here, but he comes by almost every day. He almost lives here." She says.

"Oh." I answer, unsure of what to say. I really just need to get home. I still have to make sure Prim finished her homework and then make dinner. "Well, I have to go." I say as I start walking towards the door.

"Okay, see ya later!" Annie calls.

I give a wave over my shoulder and yank the door open. Warm, muggy air hits my face and I groan. It's started to sprinkle, the rain drops making small dark spots on the cement once they hit. I readjust the strap of my bag, and, after looking both ways, I dart across the street.

Once I make it to the alley, I finally let my smile show where no one can see it, hidden by the walls of the towering buildings. Relief floods over me and I let out a deep breath. We are in no way free from financial problems, far from it, but now I don't have to worry about Prim or myself starving. And for right now, that's the best I could hope for, even if I do have to clean the toilets with my bare hands.

I walk through the alley, the clouds sitting lower in the sky, the air heavy. I have to remind myself not to get too settled because you never know when the opportunities presented to you can be ripped away without a second thought or warning. Just like my old job, just like my father, and in result, my mother. I can't afford to feel relief when things are still so hard and could get worse.

I try to pick up my pace. I'm sweating from the heat and the rain isn't helping. My lips form a grimace as I wipe away the sweat from my brow. I can feel my clothes beginning to stick to my skin, making me even more uncomfortable. Once I make it to the subway station, I wait. I still have around twenty minutes until it stops here next. I find a bench and sit down, hoping the rain doesn't pick up.

I hate this place. I miss North Carolina. I miss the miles and miles of fresh forest and hunting ground. I miss the life I had there, when my father was still alive and my mother was happy and actually spoke to us; when Prim had a normal life with her parents and plenty of food in her belly; when she didn't have to grow up so fast. When her eyes still twinkled with innocence instead of clouded with the horrors she's been through like they do now.

We've only lived here for a little over a year. My father got a job transfer, but during his first week of work, there was an accident and we never saw him again. We never got to hear his laugh or see his smile again. There are still days when something will remind me of him and it's so unexpected, I nearly crumple to the floor in pain. My chest aching as tears stream down my face. I miss him. I miss him so much. You just can't depend on anything, because it's always taken away no matter how hard you try to hold onto it.

I look up from my lap when I hear the train approaching, the wheels screeching on the rails as they turn. I hadn't realized it was raining completely, my braid dripping wet, until now. I sigh in frustration, gathering my bag on my shoulder and jog to the entrance of the subway car. The doors shriek again as they open, hurting my ears. I step inside, and the smell of mildew hits my nose once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN* This is the longest chapter I have ever wrote, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Please let me know what you guys think, I would really appreciate that. **

**I probably will update every Saturday but if I happen to finish a chapter early, like this one, I will probably update on a Tuesday of Wednesday. Just so ya know. :D**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. **

**IMPORTANT: If you guys have any ideas for the story feel free to offer them. I already have a lot of it planned out but if I like your idea enough, I'll concider including it. **

* * *

CHAPTER 2

My boots sink into the mud as I trudge down the walkway to our front door. The mud is at least a few inches deep, making it a hassle to take each step. The bare trees that surround our small house sway back and forth in the wind, their branches knocking against the side of the of the house, scrapping against the second-story windows.

It's a small house on the outskirts of town, in the poor district. People usually refer to it as the Seam, but I don't really care what it's called. It's a dump. Plain and simple. Our house is one of the few houses on our street that doesn't have trashcans overflowing or old, rusted toys and furniture littering the front yard. We may live in poor side of town, but we still have some decency.

There's a wraparound porch, and even though some of the wooden boards are loose or missing, Prim and I like to spend our time out here when the nights are cool, sitting on the front steps with our feet dangling. The door is a faded red, and windows, though few, are large. It's a good size for our family, and as long as the roof if still secure over our heads, the other flaws are just minor.

The rain is dripping down my face, falling into my eyes, and I wipe it away. I rush up the steps, the wood groaning beneath me, and bend down to untie my boots. I struggle with the laces, an impatient groan escaping my lips, my wet fingers slipping around the knot. With one more tug, the laces unwind, and I kick off my boots. They clatter to the ground, the mud dripping off the bottoms.

I reach for the brass door handle, but just as the tips of my fingers touch it, the door is yanked open. My little sister stands in front of me, her blond hair in two braids hanging over her shoulders. Her blue eyes are wide with worry and anxiousness as she shifts aside, making room for me to enter. I wring the end of my braid out while I'm still outside, the water drops falling to the porch.

I step inside and flop down on the small bench in the entryway, my head leaning against the wall. "Hey, Prim." I say as I set my bag down on the floor. I scowl as the water puddling around me. "Can you get me a towel?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but she quickly shuts it and nods. She turns around and rushes down the hallway. A minute later, she stands in front of me, a towel in her hand. I thank her and start mopping up the water. "How was school, Little Duck?" I ask.

"It was fine." She says with a hint of anxiety in her voice, though she manages to keep it off her face. I try to hide my smile that only Prim can cause.

"Yeah? Have you started your homework?" I ask. She nods fervently, her eyes trained on me. I know she is just dying to start firing questions at me but, much to my amusement, she manages to bite her tongue.

"I was worried about you getting lost. I know you haven't been there better and then when the rain started—" she stops when I cut her off with a chuckle.  
"No, I found it alright. The rain didn't bother me, don't worry." I tell her. The worry automatically leaves her eyes but the anxiousness stays, and I try not to smirk. "So, what should we have for dinner?" I ask her.

"Oh, forget dinner!" She finally bursts and I laugh. I knew she wouldn't be able to hold out long. "How did it go? Did you get the job?" She asks as she practically jumps up and down, her braid flopping with her. Her eyes are wide and hopeful and as much as I want to keep teasing her, I know I can't.

"I start Monday." I say. A smile breaks out on her face and she jumps over to me and throws her arms around my neck. I automatically return the hug before pulling away to look at her.

"That's fantastic, Katniss. I'm so happy for you." She says excitedly. "I knew you could do it."

"Thanks for having faith in me, Little Duck, but remember that I can't do everything. No matter how badly I want to." I say as I tug on one of her braids. She gives me a small smile.

"I think you can do anything you put your mind to. I don't think anything can get in your way once you are determined to do something." She says softly, and suddenly I'm reminded that my sister is so much older than I would like. She grew up too fast for her age. She's thirteen and she's already smarter than I am.

"So...dinner?" I ask. She nods, taking my hand and pulling me up and onto my feet. We walk through the dim hall toward the kitchen, the whole time Prim telling me about her day at school and how she tripped on her shoe laces right when she reached the schoolyard. Apparently, she's never been more humiliated in her life.

I stop once we reach the kitchen. My mother stands at the stove, her back turned to me as she stirs something in a pot. It's such an unusual sight that my mouth drops open. I'm so used to coming home with her still sitting in bed, her hair matted and eyes glassy. But I know this won't last long, it never does. In a few days, she will resume her spot in bed, and Prim and I will be cooking alone again.

I set my jaw, my fists clenching at my sides. This is, once again, going to hurt Prim. Every time my mother does this, makes the tiniest bit of progress, Prim gets overjoyed and her eyes fill with hope. On the rare occasions, she drags herself out of bed and plasters that fake smile on her face is the moment Prim nearly jumps for joy only to have reality come crashing down on her when mother's eyes turn glassy once again. It's the same thing. Time after time.

My mother hears us enter the kitchen and she rests the spoon inside the pan, causing it to make a soft clattering sound. She turns to face us slowly, her long blonde hair that looks so much like Prim's is handing in a ponytail. Her eyes look void, but not as lost as they usually are. And there it is. That stupid fake smile I hate so much. My face heats up in anger.

Prim squeezes my hand and I look down at her wide eyes, begging me to be nice. I give an almost invisible nod of my head and she relaxes a little before turning to my mother and tossing her a wide smile. I don't understand how Prim is so easy to forget everything my mother has done to us, but I guess that's always been her specialty.

"I thought I would make you guys dinner." My mother says, looking nervous. "Since you guys are always making it, I thought I'd give you a break." Prim smiles widely, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Thank you, Ma." She says as she walks over to her, her small arms wrapping around her waist. My mother looks shocked at first, almost lost at how she's supposed to respond. She probably is lost; she's barely hugged us since my father's death. After a second, her arms hesitatingly wrap around Prim, a tentative smile on her face.

I stand awkwardly in the doorway, my feet glued to the floor as I watch them. Prim pulls away and quickly walks over to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward our mother. I have to fight the urge to yank my hand out of hers. I don't want to talk to my mother. I don't even want to be in the same room as her. But I know that if I pull away and leave the room, I'll be disappointing Prim. And I can't do that.

I stare at my mother and I'm sure she can sense the anger in them because she squirms uncomfortably, shifting on her feet as her eyes find the floor. I almost scoff at her; she can't even look me in the eye. My cheeks flush again, but a squeeze of my hand from Prim stops me from screaming at my mother.

We stand there for a minute, neither of us making a move to speak. Prim's eyes dart between the two of us, her eyes desperate and nervous. Finally, my mother turns back to the rusted pot on the stove, her eyes never meeting mine, and she continued to stir, her hand going 'round and 'round without missing a beat. I take a seat at the table, the wood chipped and scratched as Prim sits next to me. I want so badly to leave this room.

After a few minutes, my mother grabs three bowls from the cabinet, the doors squeaking on the hinges. She pours the stew into the bowls and sets Prim's and mine in front of us. She sits down, her chair grinding across the floor, causing me to flinch at the sound. We eat in silence, like we do every time she decides to join us. But the silence is welcome.

After a few minutes, Prim stops her fidgeting in her seat and turns to our mother. "Katniss got a job today." She says in an attempt to start a conversation. My mother's eyes widen, and she looks at me questioningly. I shrug my shoulders, my eyes on my stew as my spoon pushes around a piece of meat.

"I thought you had a job." My mother says as her brow furrows together. "At that grocery store."

"I got laid off last week." I say, my teeth gritted as I try to keep my anger under control.

"Oh. Well where are you working now?" She asks.

"A gym downtown."

Her eyes wide once again and she shakes her head. "No. It's dangerous over there." She says sternly. My eyes narrow at her.

"Well unless you want to starve, I'll be working at the gym." I hiss at her.

"No you will not. You will find someplace else to work." She says, her blue eyes boring into mine. I stare at her, my face heating up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Prim looking hopeless, because she knows this conversation is not going to end well.

"I've been looking for a week and this was the only place hiring." I tell her, still glaring.

"You'll have to keep looking."

I rise up from my chair, almost knocking it over in the process, as my anger boils over. "No I won't. And what does it matter to you where I'm working now?" I yell at her. Her eyes look shocked and she scoots back in her chair unconsciously. "You didn't care when I was working at the gas station last summer, and it was in an even worse part of town! Do you want to know why you didn't care? Because you didn't know! You didn't know I was working there and I worked there for three months. You never even noticed!" I scream at her.

"I-I didn't... your father had just died." She whispers as tears form in her eyes. But I don't stop.

"Do you think you were the only one affected by dad's death? He was my father and I lost him too! But I didn't neglect my family like you did. I took your responsibilities into my own hands, because if I hadn't, we would have all starved to death."

"I know I wasn't the only one affected... but he was my husband, Katniss." She answers, a tear escaping for her eye.

I scoff at her. "And he was my father. I cared about him more than anything, and he was ripped away from us! That doesn't give you the right to forget the rest of your family. Did you know that Prim still cleans dads mirror in the hall bathroom? Did you know that Prim wants to be a doctor?" I ask her.

Her eyes grow wide, glistening with tears and she looks at Prim in shock. "You do?" She asks her, her voice a whisper. Prim gives a small nod, and my mother looks back at me.

"See. You don't even know what's going on with your own kids." I say with another scoff. I look at Prim to see her staring at me, tears in her wide blue eyes. I know this didn't go the way she wanted it to go, but I can't bring myself to feel sorry. My mother deserved every word.

"Katniss, it's been rough for us all... I know, but you have to understand—" my mother starts, but I cut her off.

"Understand?" I ask in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? I understand perfectly well. I lost my mother the same time day I lost my father, and I haven't seen her since." I hiss at her, turning on my heels and rushing down the hall, my face red. The last thing I see before I turn is the hurt clearly struck on my mother's face.

I really couldn't care less.

* * *

I groggily open my eyes. I roll over to my side, propping my head up in my hand. My eyes dart past Prim's squirming body to the window. It's still dark out, the sky black. The branches of the trees irritatingly screech and scrap across the window. I don't see how Prim can sleep through the noise. Granted she's not sleeping very well, but still.

I look back to Prim, her face contorted in what looks like pain. She whimpers, her fists tightening around the sheets, turning her knuckles white. I sigh; I hate seeing her like this, and, unfortunately, I see it almost every night. Another whimper escapes her lips, and I reach over and gently shake her shoulder as I whisper her name. Her body tenses for a moment before her eyes pop open revealing her bright blue eyes.

Once her eyes lock on mine she calms down a bit, but then, like every time she has a nightmare, the trembling starts. She looks at me, her eyes glassy, and I scoot closet to her, wrapping her in my arms. My shirt turns wet with her tears and I hold her tighter, trying my best not to break down with her,because as much as I'd like to be strong for Prim, I'm broken just like her. But I can't afford to cry when everyone is depending on me to keep everything running.

A few minutes pass and finally Prim loosens her grip on my shirt and scoots away to look at me, her cheeks stained with tears. She wipes them away with the palm of her hand, an apologetic smile on her face, though her eyes are still pained. I brush some of her matted blonde hair behind her ear.  
"Go back to sleep, Little Duck." I tell her in a whisper so mother won't hear us speaking. The walls are paper thin.

There's no point in talking to Prim about her dream. It's always the same: watching our father die time and time again. The first few months after his death were the worst. We both woke up screaming for him, but of course he never showed; never came running into our room to comfort us and ask us if we were okay. After that, the screams stopped on Prim's part, but she still whimpers and squirms, and I hold her to me just like tonight.

The screams never stopped for me. On the few occasions where I can actually sleep the whole night, and not just in half hours parts, I always scream myself awake. Prim needs her sleep; she needs to be awake for school and not snoozing on her desk in class. So I never let myself sleep through the whole night. I was already awake when Prim's nightmare started.

She stares at me, her eyes searching mine. "You haven't slept." She states matter-of-factly. Her small hand reaches up and brushes under my eyes that are no doubt dark from lack of sleep. I gently push her hand down.

"I'm fine, Prim. Go back to sleep." I tell her, more sternly this time. She doesn't need to worry about me. She frowns at me, her brow furrowing. After a second of staring, she gives a slight shake of her head and turns over in bed pulling the sheets up around her shoulder.

I slide back to my side of the bed and flop back down. I watch as Prim's breathing slows and grows deeper. I sigh and turn my head up to the ceiling, trying to block out the sound of the trees on the windows. I shut my eyes and try my best not to fall asleep, to make it just a couple more hours until sunrise.

* * *

The gym comes into view as I walk down the alley. Monday truly couldn't come fast enough, but finally, it's here. I can't help but be glad it's not raining today. There are only a few clouds in the sky, and, even though the sun is shining through, the sky is gray. Hard to imagine there can be so much pollution in one city. It's still muggy today, and as much as I like the sun, it really isn't helping. The heat wave is still going strong.

My head darts to the side when I hear a hiss. That ugly orange cat is still here, its hair standing on end, back arched. I scowl at it, its hideous yellow eyes boring into mine as it chews on some unidentifiable trash. The cat itself is trash. It only suits it that it lives in a dumpster in an old alleyway.

I return my attention back to the gym; its gray walls and dirt-covered windows. As much as I'm grateful for this job, I hate this place, and more importantly, the owner. I know he and I are going to be butting heads the entire time I work here. It will just be a matter of time before either one of us blows up in the others face. The only problem is he can fire me. But work is work and money is money, and I really have no right to complain.

After checking the street for cars, I jog across the street, my braid slapping me in the back. I grab the handle of the dirt-covered door and yank it open, the hinges screeching in protest. Cool air hits my face once again and I have to fight a smile. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and glance around.

The gym is busier than when I visited last. Most of the treadmills on the back wall are full with people chattering at they run. I step back as a man with bronze hair walks past me toward the main desk. As he passes, he winks at me, his green eyes playful. I glare at him, fixing the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I've had enough of people constantly eyeing me like a piece of meat in this city.

Past the man, my eyes land on the boxing ring. It's empty except for an older guy sitting on one of the corners, sweat dripping from his body. It's not the boy I saw last time. My train of thought is cut off when I hear someone call my name. I turn my head to see Annie standing behind the front desk. Her hair pulled into a messy bun, smiling widely.

I try to force a smile as I walk over, but it probably came out as more of a grimace. Annie doesn't seem to notice or mind, because she waves me over eagerly. A grimace does form when my eyes land on the bronze-haired man lazily leaning back on the desk, a smirk on his face as he watches me walk over.

"Are you excited for your first day?" Annie asks me once I reach the counter. I shrug in reply because I'm not excited, but I'm not dreading it either. "Well, Haymitch told me I was going to train you today, so that should be fun. I think we're cleaning the locker rooms, and then I'll show you how to make sure the equipment stays clean."

"Okay." I say.

"So you're the new girl?" The man asks. I nod my head, keeping my eyes on Annie, who is looking at the man with exasperation.

"Gosh, Finnick. Give the girl some time to breathe before you go harassing her." She says with a small smile.

"I wasn't harassing. I was asking a question." Finnick replies with a smirk, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, but your questions are usually followed with harassing."

"Only if it's necessary." He says with a straight face.

"And when is harassing ever necessary, Finnick? You know that doesn't make any sense."

"I can think of plenty of times when it was necessary. Like when you need to set someone straight or when you want to bother someone—"

"Finnick!" Annie cries, cutting him off. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, Annie. You know I was only joking." Finnick says as he walks around the counter and casually plops his arm around Annie's shoulders. She smiles at him before refining her attention to me.

"Finnick is one of the trainers, by the way, and completely annoying. Brutus is also a trainer but he rarely shows up." She tells me.

"Annoying? Try sexy." Finnick says with another wink at me, and I glare at him.

"So...shall we get started?" Annie asks me. I nod in agreement and walk behind her as she motions for me to follow her, wiggling out of Finnick's grasp.  
We spend the next couple of hours on the girl's locker room. Annie guides me through it, pointing out different things like where the toilets are and where to find towels. It smells like sweat and feet, and no matter how hard I try to keep my nose from wrinkling, it does it anyway.

The walls are a horrible mint green color with mildew growing around the tops of the walls and ceiling. The lockers are painted white, but where the paint is chipped, you can clearly see the metal underneath. They're covered in scratches and scuff marks and I'm left wondering how a locker can get so much damage.  
Annie walks around a set of lockers, telling me to make sure there is no trash left on the floor and no abandoned towels left sitting on the benches. I nod my head occasionally to let her know I'm listening, but, for the most part, I remain silent, my eyes constantly roaming over the room. It's filthy and I'm surprised they have as many customers as they do.

After Annie has showed me all the basics, she returns to her position at the front desk, leaving me with a warm smile and a soft pat on the back to finish the cleaning in the locker room. I bend down, my pants getting soaked at the knees where they come on contact with the wet, tiled floor. I grip the scrub brush tight in my yellow-gloved hand as I scrub around the base of the toilets, removing the dirt and mildew.

I constantly have to toss my braid over my shoulder to keep it from trailing on the floor as I work. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if this place hasn't been cleaned since before I got here. I can't see how it could have with the layers of dirt and dust piled everywhere. I grimace as I enter the next stall to wipe down the toilets when I find the previous occupant hadn't flushed.

I consider leaving it for last, but decide against it. I'll have to clean it sooner or later. Grabbing toilet paper from the roll, I flush the toilet while I hold my breath. As quickly as I can get the job done, I scrub the toilet and base, flushing it a second time for good measure. I stumble to my feet and have to grab onto the wall to steady myself. As soon as I exit the stall, I take a deep breath. It still smells like sweat but it was better than whatever was in there.

After I finish the rest of the toilets, I peel the soiled cleaning gloves off my hand and exit the locker room. My eyes land on Annie standing on the outside of the boxing ring. Finnick stands in the middle, talking to a dark-skinned boy sitting on one of the chairs in the corner. I walk over to their direction and stand beside Annie. She gives me a quick nod before returning her attention to Finnick.

"Where's Peeta, Annie? He was supposed to show up for training today." Finnick says as he helps the boy to his feet.

"I don't know." She says with a weary glance in my direction. "Maybe he just decided to pass today."

They share a look, both of them quickly glancing at me and Finnick gives an almost invisible nod of his head. My brow furrows in confusion, that whole exchange completely lost on my part, but I don't ask questions. It's none of my business.

"I'm sure he'll be here tomorrow." Finnick says as he throws a punch at the boy, giving a nod of approval when he dodges it.

"I hope so..." Annie mumbles, her eyes falling to the floor with a worried look.

"Alright, Thresh...let's work on more blocking." Finnick tells the boy, and he nods.

Annie brings her eyes from the floor and looks back at me, the worry all but vanishing. "So, how was your first day?" She asks.

"Alright. Is there anything else I need to do?" I ask.

"Umm...no, I don't think so. I talked to Mr. Abernathy earlier and he said that you are going to be closing from now on. Johanna usually does, but she has to start leaving a little earlier now."

I assume Johanna is another worker. "Okay." I say.

"Yep, so when you come in tomorrow just ask Haymitch for the key. If he's not in his office, I'll find him."

"Find him?" I ask.

"Yeah, sometimes he doesn't always come down to visit." She must see the confusion on my face, because she rushes to explain. "He lives on the second story, and most of the time, he spends his whole day there."

"Oh." I guess that makes sense. Most people in this part of town live above their businesses. It's cheap and you don't have to worry about gas bills and bus passes. Before my father died, my mother wanted to open an apothecary shop in town and we would have lived above it, but we never got the chance.  
Sometimes I wish we would have anyway. It would have saved a lot of money and maybe it would have helped my mother with her depression, although

I find that unlikely. I know Prim would have loved it. She loves anything that has to do with medicine and helping people. Unlike me, who flees the house whenever someone has the smallest cough.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Annie says, successfully grabbing my attention again. "We got our uniforms in the mail today."

"We have to have uniforms?" I ask.

"Well they're really just tee shirts, but I need to give you yours before you leave. Come on." She says as she grabs my wrist and hauls me to the front desk. She bends down and pulls out a box overflowing with brown shirts hanging out the sides and plops it on the desk.

"What size are you?" She asks as she digs through the box.

"Do I have to pay for it?" I ask.

"No, no. It's free." She assures.

"I wear a medium."

She nods and digs further in the box. After a minute of searching, she pulls out a shirt and hands it to me. I hold it out and stare at it. It's a plain brown color with "Downtown Chicago Gym" printed in black and outlined in red on the front. At least it's not some ridiculous pink or neon green, although I would happily wear a tutu and a wig if it meant I was getting paid and keeping Prim out of the community home.

* * *

The bell jingles as I enter the Laundromat, leaving the cool air of the night behind me. I sigh in relief when I see the washer and dryer I usually use is empty. I never come here this late at night, and I wasn't sure who I'd find. It was necessary, though. My jeans are soaked from work and I need to wash my new uniform.

After I left work, I got home to see mother still on her feet and Prim beaming with pride. I didn't say anything, unwilling to destroy Prim's hope. I just shook my head and started gathering up the dirty laundry, filling it up in a large white bag that I use for the laundry only.

I head over the washer and fling my bag from over my shoulder onto one of the chairs. My fingers fumble with the coins in my pocket. I pull them out, the coins jingling as they rest in my palm. I enter the right amount into the machine and toss the clothes in. The buttons beep loudly in the almost empty room and I flinch at how it disrupts the silence.

I sit back in one of the chairs while I wait. I lean back, my braid falling behind me and glance around. The walls are white, hurting my eyes if I stare at them for too long. An older lady with gray hair is staring at the machine in front of her like it's a spaceship. She squints through her glasses, her hand poised to press a button, but she pulls it back at the last minute.

I consider offering to help, but just as I'm debating it in my head, a boy shows up out ofnowhere and walks over to her, his own laundry bag in hand. I squint my eyes at him. His back is turned to me but he seems familiar. Especially his curlyblonde hair.

"Need help, Mags?" I hear him ask the lady. She mumbles a response and he chuckles as he pushes the buttons that beep loudly. The machine turns on and she gives him a toothless smile, mumbling something to him. He gives a nod and turns around, walking to the machine next to mine.

His eyes land on me sitting down, and I automatically recognize him. He's the boxer from the gym. His hair is mussed, his blue shirt wrinkled slightly, but the thing that grabs my attention the most is the bruise on his cheek. His blue eyes widen slightly before he recovers and they dart to the ground, almost embarrassed.

My brow furrows as I watch him set his bag down a few chairs away from mine and starts sorting his laundry for the wash. He intentionally avoids my eyes the whole time, and, for some reason, I find that irritating. I have to remind myself that it's not a law from him to look at me, but I find it unnerving still. He must recognize me.

After his laundry is started, he takes a seat, running a hand through his hair, causing his curls to ruffle. He takes a deep breath, resting his head in his hands that are propped up on his knees. I watch him for a moment before I start when he lifts his head to look at me. My eye dart away from him, embarrassed that I was caught looking at him.

After a few seconds, I risk another look at him to find his eyes already trained on me. He gives me a small smile, his cheeks slightly tinted pink. I can feel the confusion wash over my face, but try to keep the emotion off. Once he realizes I'm not going to return his smile, his smile fades and he turns back to watch his clothes as they turn around in the washer.

I surprise both him and myself by speaking first. "Finnick asked Annie where you were today." I say. I don't even know why I said anything, and that's the first thing I say to him. It's none of my businessanyway, but the silence was unsettling. He looks at me, eyes wide as he tries to figure out what to say. Suddenly, I wonder if he even recognizes me. "Sorry." I mumble.

"It's okay." He assures me, his voice warm and quiet, and I find the courage to look him in the eyes. "Was it your first day?" He asks and I nod, relieved he recognized me. "Did you like it?"

I can feel the grimace growing on my face as I think of the toilets. Peeta, I think was the name Annie called him, chuckles at my expression. I scowl at him, and I watch as he tries to stifle his laugh with his hand but fails miserably. He gives me a shy, apologetic smile and my scowl fades.

"The locker rooms are disgusting." I say simplyas I move my eyes to the washer in front of me.

"I try to avoid them as much as possible." He says amused, and I nod in understanding.

"Do you go to the gym a lot?" I ask him.

"Almost every day. It gets me out of the house." He says, his eyes darkening slightly once he mentions his house. I turn to look at him to see his eyes clouded as he stares at the floor. He gives his head a slight shake and lets out a weary chuckle,and I wonder if I asked the wrong thing.

"How long have you been boxing?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Not long. A year, maybe." He says, giving me a crooked smile.

"Is it a hobby?"

He hesitates for a moment as if he's choosing his words carefully. "Partly. It's a little more complicated than that." He says, and I can tell from the look in his eyes he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. I oblige and nod my head. He looks relieved, and another wearily smile creeps onto his lips. I try to smile back, keeping the confusion off my face.

"I've never seen you here before." He says, trying to change the subject.

I shrug. "I don't usually come this late." He nods and leans back in his chair.

"I don't blame you. There are a lot of creeps out this late."

"Is that why you're out?" I ask with a smirk.

He laughs, and I think that's the first real laugh I've heard in ages; one that's not filled with stress or worry; one that is actually just laughing. The thought brings an unexpected smile to my lips before I can stop it, which is ridiculous. I have no true reason to be smiling right now.

I shake my head to release those thoughts and look back at Peeta. He smiles at me, and I have to fight the urge to smile back.

"Well...I guess we'll be seeing each other more often now." He says warmly, his eyes reflecting the dim light, causing the deeper blue flecks to stand out.

"I suppose you're right." I say quietly.

His smile widens and I can't help but think he is the only person I have seen smile so much. I wonder if his cheeks ever hurt. My eyes fall on the bruise on his cheek. I guess they do, just in a different way. He probably got it from a boxing match.

I move my eyes back to his and see his cheeks tint pink. My eyes fall on my hands folded on my lap, my fingers twisting nervously. "Sorry." I mumble again. I really need to stop staring.

"It's okay." He tells me once again and our conversation fades, ending as quickly as it started. I guess that's better anyway. I didn't get this job to make friends.

My mind begins to wander as I wait, almost forgetting about the boy sitting a few chairs away. I can't help but think of Prim, and, no matter how hard I try, how I will never make enough money to send her to college, especially when I can barely keep food in her stomach. I fold my arms over my chest, staring at the horrible white walls, and wait for the ding of the dryer, signaling that I can return home.

* * *

**So I almost cut this chapter short because it was so long but then I desided not to because then we would have a Peeta-less chapter and that's no good. I promise you will see more of him in the next chapter. Im still at the introduction stage, so it's taking a little longer. **

**Its also going to take Katniss some time to warm up to him of course, so be patient. I promise it will happen. **

**Anway, let me know what you think. :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN* Tada! Another chapter! I hope you guys enjoy. I am still taking suggestions by the way. And thank you to everyone who has sent me ideas. There were a lot of great one that I will definitely think about adding. **

**And a special thanks to everyone who has reviewed! They mean so much to me and I love to hear what you guys think, so thank you a bunch! :D I do a happy dance everytime I get one...unless my parents are in the room. **

**As for my other story, the next chapter is almost finished so it should be up soon. Yay! **

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter and please let me know what you think. :)**

* * *

Chapter 3

The sound of wings flapping over my head leads me to pause and listen. I hold my breath and tilt my head upwards, hoping to catch the sound once more. But I don't. It's silent. If it weren't for the fact that silence is key while hunting, I would have let out a frustrated groan.

I've been out here since four-thirty in the morning and I still haven't caught anything. The unusual warmth for this early must have all the animals scurrying to find shade to shelter them from the heat. Normally, I would have went home by now, but our meat is almost out and my shift at the gym starts this afternoon, so this is the only time I can hunt right now.

Even with the pressure of bringing home dinner, I can let myself relax here. It's the only place that reminds me of the life I used to have in North Carolina, with my family when it was still intact. Sometimes, on days when things are particularly horrible, I can't convince myself to come out here. Memories of my father would haunt me on days like those. But on the goods, the days like today when I can take joy in those memories, the forest is a welcomed sight.

Closing my eyes, I leave myself to depend completely on my hearing. The sun streaming through the trees warms my face, causing beads of sweat to form on my brow. My grip on my bow tightens feeling the smooth wood against my fingers. I squeeze my eyes tighter, straining to hear something. Anything.

Leaves rustle. A branch snaps a few yards away. My eyes pop open, automatically zooming in on the moving bush to my left. Being sure to avoid the crunching leaves, I take one cautious step forward. Much to my pleasure, my boot lands softly on the dirt. More leaves rustle and my bow drifts into place, poised to fire. I wait, aim steady.

A doe leaps out from behind the bush, its head held high. Its eyes are wide and alert. Its ears perked up straight. A slight breeze blows by and I stiffen. Automatically its head snaps to the side and I silently curse, knowing it's caught my sent. In seconds, the arrow leaves the bow, flying through the air before lodging in the doe's eye.

It stands, stunned, before falling to the ground. My bow drops to my side as I take a breath of relief. A victorious smile spreads across my face as I walk to the now dead animal. This will surely feed us for weeks, and I can sell the pelt in the market for quite a subsequent amount. I toss my braid over my shoulder and squat down in front of it, my knife clutched in my hand.

* * *

Struggling to keep the dirty towels from falling to the floor, I rush to the hamper in the corner of the locker rooms. I have to stop at least three times, readjust the pile, and then take off again. Once I reach the hamper, I dump the towels inside, almost filling it to the brim. My hands rub against my pants in an attempt to remove the grime from the towels that seems to accumulate the longer I'm here.

It amazes me how many towels get used by the end of the day. It's as if each person uses four of them and then rolls around in the dirt with them. I turn back around to face the rest of the locker room. It's empty, the afternoon rush having already left. Continuing my search, I walk around the room once more.

I pass through the rows of lockers, the doors scratched and loose. My eyes scan along the damp floor as I search for any trash I might have missed. The mint green walls on the back look sickly from the poor lighting. This whole room—every crevasse, every tile, every bench and wall—feels and looks disgusting. My mind is still trying to wrap around the idea that this place has customers.

Once I'm satisfied that no trash has been left, I start for the door. I pause as I pass the sinks, considering whether or not to wash my hands. With one good look at them, I scowl, shaking my head before continuing for the door. I would probably just end up with more dirt on my hands anyway.

Light streams through the door as I open it and I immediately feel less closed in. I take a deep breath, relieved to finally be in less sweat filled air. The sun is shining brightly through the windows just like it was this morning.

I had barely made it through the door before Annie was in front of me, her hair in a messy bun as she quickly explained to me that there was an "accident" in the girls' locker room, and that if she wasn't working at the front desk, she would have cleaned it up. I've been in there for over three hours now, and it's nice to have somewhat fresh air.

Quickly, I stretch my back, trying to relieve some of the tension from being bent over scrubbing the floor earlier, before walking over to Annie, who is still at the front desk talking to an elderly couple. I stop short when I hear the sound of feet shuffling and Finnick shouting at someone to keep their fist up. My head snaps to the side to find the boxing ring full.

Peeta stands in the middle, his blond curls mussed as he dodges a punch. His broad shoulders are ridged as he concentrates on his opponent, slowing walking around him, fists raised and eyes alert, waiting for more. The other boy, Thresh, I think, throws another punch and this one makes contact. Peeta staggers back slightly before regaining his composer.

"Keep your fists up, Peeta!" Finnick shouts from outside the ring. He leans in closer, trying to get a good view of the fight.

Suddenly, Peeta lunges forward, pinning Thresh on the floor. My eyes widen as I watch the two brawl. Thresh flips Peeta on his back but it doesn't take long for Peeta to regain control. I can hear Finnick shouting at Peeta, telling him to hold out for another minute, to keep his grip tight.

"Just thirty more seconds, Pete." Finnick says.

Thresh struggles to escape Peeta's hold but every time he gets any kind of leverage, Peeta tightens his grip, halting any of Thresh's movements. Finnick rings a red, old, rusted bell. It makes a loud dinging sound and I almost jump at the noise. My eyes stay glued on Peeta and Thresh as they get up, both of them panting heavily.

I hadn't realized Annie had joined me until I feel her softly elbow my side. I turn to look at her the see her staring at the boxing ring with a smirk on her face.

Even though I know she can't see, my eyebrows raise in question.

"He's good, huh?" She asks, her arms folding across her chest.

I look back at the ring. Peeta sits in the corner nodding at something Finnick—who had entered the ring—is telling him. He takes a gulp of his water bottle, whipping the sweat away from his brow with the back of his hand.

"Who?" I ask, still watching Peeta.

"Peeta. Thresh is good, too, but Peeta has a lot of natural talent when it comes to fighting." She says, and I can almost hear the smile in her voice, though she sounds thoughtful.

My head cocks to the side slightly as I watch him. From what I saw, I can't really say whether or not he's natural at it. I don't know much about fighting, barely anything, really, so I can't even say if he did well or not, although I would assume he did, since he won.

"You know, he's only been fighting for a little less than a year. Finnick says he's doing great for the short amount of time he's been here." Annie says. "Thresh has been fighting since he was ten and Peeta still beat him."

I stare at Annie. It's obvious from the proud tone in her voice that she and Peeta have a close relationship. She admires him and I can't help but think that there's something more. It may not be romantic, or anything like that, but it seems like it goes deeper than just a regular friendship.

"I think he has a fight next week." She says, turning to face me, a small smile on her lips. Her green eyes sparkle from the light and her smile grows. "Finnick is going to help him prepare."

"Don't all the trainers go to the fights?" I ask, my brow furrowed.

"Yeah. But Finnick isn't Peeta's 'official' trainer. He doesn't have actually one, so Finnick is going." She looks back at the ring. "I don't think it really matters, anyway. Official or not official, Finnick is his trainer. And he's comfortable around him, so why wouldn't he go?" She says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

I nod my head, my eyes flitting back to the ring as well. "That makes sense." Finnick hauls Peeta to his feet. "Does he always have fights?" I ask.

"Whenever he's lucky enough to find one. In this part of town, the most common fighting is street fighting, and that obviously doesn't pay anything."

"He gets paid?" I ask, eyebrows raising.

Annie bites her lip, her eyes finding the floor. "Yeah." She says wearily. "I think the fight is on Friday."

The change of subject tells me she doesn't want to speak any more about him getting paid. And although it confuses me, I don't pry. If she wanted to tell me, she would. I look up to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at me.

Peeta stands in the ring still, a small smile on his face as he gives a slight wave. I'm frozen for a second. His hand drops lamely at his side and he gives me a sheepish smile, apologetic. My eyebrows shoot up and I wave back at him. He gives a genuine smile now, it almost taking up his whole face. And, for some reason, this make me want to smile more.

I hear Annie chuckle and I turn to look at her, forcing the scowl off my face. "What?" I ask defensively.

She gives a dismissive wave of her hand, a smirk on her face. "Nothing."

This time I can't keep the scowl off. She notices and bites her lip again, but this time to keep from laughing. "It was really nothing, Katniss." She says, trying to placate me. She looks at the small, white watch on her wrist, her face breaking out into a smile. "It's almost closing time."

My gaze adverts to the windows to see the sun sinking, the light fading. Through the buildings, I can see the sky painted a deep orange that eventually fades into red, outlining the horizon. Even inside, the air is beginning to cool off. It's a nice change from to constant humid heat we've been having for the past month.

These are Prim's favorite nights. Where the weather is calm and soothing; the breeze soft, but not chilling. To Prim, it's on these nights that she tells ne she likes to think that no bad is ever in the Earth. That no bad things could ever happen to anyone. She tells me that she likes to bring all her happy memories back, to enjoy the good that is around us.

I don't have the heart to tell her that that kind of thinking is ridiculous and frivolous. It's a waste of time, because there is bad on this Earth, all around us. You can't avoid it no matter how much wish it away. If Prim wants to hope, then who am I to deny her? All I wish is that all that hoping doesn't come back crush her.

"Annie! There's a customer at the front desk!" Finnick shouts from his spot next to Peeta.

"Okay, I got it!" She shouts back, turning around to face me. "I'll see you later."

I nod and watch her jog over to the front desk, a large smile plastered on her face as she greets the man waiting. I decide this would probably be a good time to get the key to close the building from Haymitch. A scowl forms on my face at just the thought of having to see him. Things didn't go as swimmingly as they could have last time, and who knows what he'll say to get my anger boiling? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not much.

With a sigh, I start walking toward his office around the corner. Reminding myself that I have to be as pleasant as possible, I force the scowl of my face and try to smile. Just as I'm reaching the door, it swings open, blowing the stray strands of hair out of my face.

We almost run into each other, but I stop myself just in time. The person standing in front of me is taller, and I have to tilt my head up to see him. My brow furrows when I see it's Peeta. I thought he was still in the boxing ring. We stand there for a second, both of us shocked to be seeing the other.

My eyes widen when I see the pain in his eyes, a deeper shade than I have seen them. Automatically, I glare at the door behind him, wondering if it was Haymitch who caused it. His eyes dart to the floor and he quietly mumbles a soft "I'm sorry". I shake my head as if to tell him there's nothing to be sorry for, but his eyes are still trained on the floor and he doesn't see it.

"It's okay." I tell him quietly. "It was my fault."

He looks up at me with curiosity, but I can still see the pain. It causes me to frown. "It wasn't your fault. I wasn't paying attention when I walked out." He says.  
I open my mouth to argue, but I close it when I realize it's pointless anyway. Might as well not waste my breath. So instead, I just nod at him, hoping he will leave the conversation at that. My frown deepens when I look at his expression. He looks...lost. Obviously there is something on his mind and I can't help but wish that whatever it is won't bother him for much longer, because for some reason, I don't like looking at the pain in his eyes.

I have to shake my head to stop that train of thought. I can't start thinking like that, worrying about others people's feelings. It's none of my business and the only thing I need to worry about is doing my job so my family still has a house and food. That is my priority.

I realize Peeta is still standing in front of me, his eyes on the floor, his brow furrowed in thought. I peer over his broad shoulders at the door than back to him. His curls still ruffled from his fight earlier. The bruise is still on his cheek, but it's beginning to fade. I clear my throat slightly and Peeta's head snaps up, his eyes growing wide once they land on me, as if he forgot I was standing here. He probably did.

He quickly moves over to the side to let me pass. "Sorry." He tells me again, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand nervously.

"It's okay." I'm beginning to think that that's the only thing we will ever have to say to each other. I pass by him, giving him a short smile before grabbing the doorknob for the office and twisting it open. Peeta smiles back at me, not as large as it normally is, before turning back around and walking through the gym.  
I enter the office and close the door behind me. Haymitch sits at his worn desk, his elbows proper up, and his head in his hands. He rubs his eyes tiredly and I wonder if it has to do with whatever he and Peeta talked about. Something must have been said to make him look like that, because he looked fine earlier. And I wouldn't put it behind Haymitch to cause it.

My nose wrinkles once I smell the alcohol radiating off of him. It seems especially strong since the first time I was here. Even his beard looks more unkempt than last time. When he hears the door close he looks up at me with blood shot eyes. He groans at the sight of me and I scowl.  
"You're still here?" He grumbles, his head falling back into his hands.

"Yes." I say, keeping the annoyance out of my voice. I walk over the old wooden chair and take a seat, not bothering to ask him if it's okay. The chair groans and creaks, and I absently wonder if it would have been better to stand.

His voice is muffled as he speaks into his hands. "I'm surprised you haven't run off screaming yet."

"I told you I wouldn't. I keep my word." I say firmly.

His gray eyes lock on mine, hard and cold. He's searching for something and that irritates me. So, when my eyes narrow at him, I can't help it. But I have to keep reminding myself that just because I got the job, doesn't mean I can't lose it. He's my boss and can fire me anytime he feels like it.

At that thought, my glare almost disappears and I wipe scowl off my face. I can't give him any reason to fire me although I feel like I already have. I stare right back at him, waiting for him to speak. My eyes fall on his soiled shirt, the empty bottle of liquor lying on its side on the desk.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from commenting on it. No matter how much I try to feel otherwise, I can't help but hate men like him—ones that are lazy instead of just working; men that don't do something to better their situation. He has this job, but from what I've heard from Annie, he spends most of his days drunk, hiding upstairs.

His eyes search mine for another moment before a smirk grows on his lips. "Have you cleaned the toilets yet, sweetheart?"

My teeth bite so hard on the inside of my cheek, I'm surprised I don't draw blood. He's trying to get a rise out of me, to irritate me. It's working, but no matter how much he tries, I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me angry. Then he would win.

I let a smile grace my lips as I answer. "I have."

He stares at me, eyebrows raised, showing he wasn't expecting that reaction. I have to fight a smirk. His eyes narrow at me, scrutinizing. "Enjoy it much?" He asks, and I can hear the irritation he's struggling to keep out of his voice.

"Very. Thank you." I tell him evenly and my lips twitch up when I see the scowl form on his own face.

He watches me for a moment. "I can still fire you." He warns, and for a second my smile falters, but I hold it in place. I nod, reassuring him that I already know that. He grunts, leaning back in his chair and tossing his feet onto his desk. Just like when I first saw him.

"I came for the key." I say.

He nods and opens one of the drawers, the hinges screeching in protest. He ruffles around papers and pencils, some of them falling to the floor, as he looks. He grunts as he loudly slams it closed. He yanks another drawer open, his hands burying in the mounds of paper, his fingers searching. He mutters profanities under his breath, his eyebrows sitting low on his face.

After searching through two more drawers, he lets out a grunt of approval, a small brass key held up in his hand. He blows the dust off of it, and then rubs it against his pant leg for good measure. Looking back at me, he eyes me skeptically, like he doesn't trust me with the key to his gym. I can't say I blame him for that. This is only our second time meeting, and each time we haven't got along very well. I definitely wouldn't trust him with the key if it was my gym.

Even so, he hesitantly hands the key over, his fingers lingering on it. My fist curls around it, holding it tightly in my hand. I can't afford to lose it. A loss of the key would guarantee a loss of my job—something I definitely can't afford.

"Alright, now get out." He grumbles me, "And turn off the light when you leave." He rubs his eyes, a scowl on his face.

The chair creaks again as I stand. Once I reach the door, I prop it open as my eyes scan the wall for the light switch. I flick it off, the light streaming in through the crack in the door. From behind me, I can hear Haymitch's sigh of content. My lips curve into a smirk as I flip the light switch on again.

Haymitch groans loudly. I bite my lip to keep in a laugh. "Sorry," I say. "My finger slipped." I turn the light off again and shut the door behind me. A snort escapes me once I know he can't hear me anymore.

The gym has grown darker, the sun having set. The only light is provided by the scattered dim lights overhead. The one in the far right corner flickers on and off sporadically. Only two people are in here now. An older gentleman jogs on a treadmill, sweat pouring off his head. Peeta is talking with Finnick by the boxing ring, smiling. Without my permission, a small sigh of relief escapes my lips when I realize he doesn't look as hurt as when I saw him leaving Haymitch's office. I mentally scold myself for that.

I walk over to Annie's desk, looking up at the clock hanging on the wall behind it. There's only ten minutes left and then I can leave. Annie looks up from the papers in her hand and smiles when she sees me standing in front of her.

"Did you get the key?" She asks. In answer, I hold up the small brass key in the air. Her face takes on a mock serious look, her eyes growing mischievous. "Did Haymitch cause any problems?"

I roll my eyes, causing her to let out a soft chuckle. "Of course."

"Yeah, he's always like that. You just have to learn not to take everything personally."

I never did in the first place. "Okay." I say simply.

"How do you like the uniform?" She asks, pointing at my shirt. I had forgotten I was wearing it. I tug at the brown hem, feeling the scratchy fabric on my fingers. It's really not much different from my regular clothes.

"It's okay."

"Really? Mine has been annoying me all day. It's so itchy." She complains to which I just shrug. I hadn't noticed.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn my head to see Finnick leaning against the desk, his legs crossed. He smirks at me, tugging on the end of my braid. I smack his hand and he withdraws, feigning a look of offence.

"I'm sorry, do you not like it when people touch your hair?" He asks. I glare at him.

"I don't like people touching me anywhere." I say sharply. He holds his hands up in defense, sending a quick smile to Annie. She just shakes her head and returns to her papers.

"Pete!" Finnick calls over my shoulder. I glance over to see Peeta walking over to us. He stands on the other side of me, our arms almost brushing, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him. I frown slightly at that, but quickly send my attention back to Finnick, who has started talking.

"Good fight today. You should have seen Thresh's face when you jumped on him." Finnick says, laughing as he recalls the memory. "You took him by surprise. That's good. Keep that up."

"Okay, I will. Thanks for helping me today." Peeta says. I look up at him, his blue eyes not as dark as they were before, but not as light as I have seen them. Maybe that's just the way his eyes are. I haven't known him long enough—barely any at all—to know if that's the case. He senses me looking at him and he looks down, a warm smile on his lips. I give him a small smile before looking back at Finnick.

"Remember, we have a fight on Friday, so we'll have to do some extra training. Do you think you can show up earlier tomorrow?" He asks warily.  
Peeta looks down, rubbing the back of his neck as he thinks.

"It's okay of you can't." Finnick rushes to add, "I know things are...hard...at home, so if you can't, I understand." He sends a weary glance in my direction, and once again, I am completely lost by their evasiveness and the looks they keep sending each other around me.

"I'm not sure if I can, but I'll try." Peeta says quietly and Finnick nods, his expression turning sorrowful.

"It's closing time!" Annie exclaims and we all jump, being pulled out of our thoughts. She practically jumps for joy, her bun flopping up and down on her head. Finnick and Peeta laugh at her excitement and I crack a smile.

"Okay, let's go home." She says, bending down and tossing my old bag at me while gathering her jacket into her arms, her purse slung over her shoulder. I pull the key out of my pocket while placing my bag on my shoulder. Looking around, I see that the gym is already empty. The man must have left while we were talking.

We all head for the door, filing out and entering into the cool air. The breeze is slight, clouds littering the black sky. I push the key into the lock, jiggling the cold handle to make sure it locked properly.

* * *

Pulling the front door open, I enter the house. Warm air rushes against my face and I sigh in content. The subway had been crowded, and more than once, I felt like yelling at everyone to shut up. But, of course, I didn't. I regret that now.

I sit down on the bench in the entry way, my finger pulling at the sting of my boots. I kick them off, setting my bag down on the floor with a soft thump. I sniff the air, the smell of venison filling the air from the doe I shot this morning. My eyes roam over the room, wondering where Prim was. I stretch and stand, walking down the hall toward my bedroom. I stop short once I'm outside the door.

The distinct sound of Prim's whimpers seeps through the scratched door, and I immediately throw it open. She sits huddled on the corner of the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. She looks up, her eyes rimmed red, tears running down her cheek. I rush over to her side and gather her into my arms.

I have a feeling I know what's wrong, and I so hope, for Prim's sake, that it's not what I think it is. But when she speaks, her voice in a low whisper, catching on her words, my thoughts are confirmed. The anger boils up inside me instantly, but I bury it. Prim needs me right now, and I will be doing no good by letting my anger get the best of me.

So instead, I pull her closer, letting her arms wrap around me. She cries into my shoulder and my heart breaks for her. There's nothing worse than seeing Prim in pain. It's the one thing that can break me.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! The next update will be on Saturday unless I write it sooner than look for it on Wednesday. :)**

**Let me know what you think. :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN* Hey everybody! First things first: WOW! Thank you guys so much for all of your support and alerts and reviews. The response for this story was a lot higher than I thought it would be. Thank you so, so much! It means a whole lot. :D **

**Second, I'm horribly sorry for the long wait. This chapter was a HUGE trouble for me. I rewrote it three times and, since I write everything on my Kindle, the whole configuration was off and then if I hit the back space it would move whole paragraphs to the begining. It was a nightmare. But everything is fixed now. Woohoo! **

**Third...I GOT A BETA! Finally, after two weeks of searching, I found one! I'm so excited and I hope that now my stories won't have so many mistakes. **

**Fourth (Sorry, I have a lot to say), I'm going on vacation for two weeks so I won't be able to post anything for that time. Sorry. Also, this current chapter didn't get a chance to be reviewed by my Beta because of some time conlficts. I didn't realise until tonight that, since im leaving for vacation in two days, it wouldn't get edited. I didn't want you guys to have to wait another two weeks. So, I'm sorry for any mistakes. :( **

* * *

Chapter 4

My arms curl around my legs tightly, my fingers brushing against the ruff fabric of my jeans. The wind has died down already, leaving cool air in its place. It chills my face, my exposed arms, sending a shiver down my spine. I glance up at the sky but the only thing I see is black. It's always black.

Prim sits next to me in a similar position, her head resting on her knees. Her cheeks are still stained from the tears she let out earlier, and every now and then, a single tear will slide down her face. Her blue eyes look distant and hollow, just like they do every time this happens.

My hatred for my mother is never as strong as it is in these moments. But one of the things that annoys me the most is that I never know what to do to comfort Prim. I can hold her like I usually do, speak nonsense and lies about how everything is going to be okay, but I don't think it helps.

So here I sit, staring off at the house across the street while I try to think of something to say. The splintered wood beneath me groans slightly as I shift uncomfortably. Useless. I'm useless.

I hate my mother for always doing this. It would be better for everyone is she just stayed in her room and never came out. Wasted her days away staring at the wall while she's swallowed up in grief. It would be the one favor she did for us and I would accept it gladly, with open arms.

But she doesn't. She just has to come out of her shell, even if only for a day, to taunt us and show us what we will never really have again. A mother who still cares about her kids. She dangles it in front of our faces than snatches it away without any thought or warning. I know she's grieving. Me and Prim are too, but we learned to move on because what other option did we truly have? She's weak and as much as I wish otherwise, which isn't much, I hate her for it.

I'm not worried about myself. In a few months I'll be turning eighteen and then I can move out. But Prim still has four years to go and as long as she is here, I'll be here, too. There's no way on earth I'm leaving her alone with our mother. That would be like signing off on her death certificate.

I stare at a knot in the wood, my finger brushing over the ruff surface in circles. A small voice from besides me gains my attention again. I look up at Prim, her eyes desperate and searching mine.

"Why does she do this, Katniss?" she whispers.

My mind searches for an answer but the truth is, I don't know. Prim watches me, her eyes pained and suddenly, without any warning, I see another pair of blue eyes. Peeta's. He had the same look in his eyes earlier this evening. I shake my head, clearing my mind of Peeta. He's not the one staring at me now, waiting for an answer.

"I really don't know, Prim. Mom's just having a hard time right now." I reply lamely because really, what else do I say?

"It's been over a year," she says, her voice catching as tears form in her eyes. "How long will it take?" I shake my head. I don't know how long, or if it will stop.

"I want my mother back." Prim pleads, the tears falling over.

"Prim," I sigh, "I don't know if mom will ever really come back to the way she was before dad died. She might, but... I don't want you getting your hopes up." I tell her, gathering one of her hands in mine.

"I know. But it's hard when she does this kind of stuff. I can't help it."

"You have such a kind heart, Prim. I don't understand how you're able to see so much hope in everything." I don't tell her that this could be a downfall for her.

"You could have it, too."

"You know I can't. Everywhere I look, all I see is destruction and sadness. There's no point in hoping in something when it's never going to change." I say bitterly.

"Then what is there to look forward to, if you have no hope to push you forward?" she ask, her eyes sparkling.

"You're what pushes me forward. I don't need anything else." And it's true. I'm sure that if Prim wasn't my sister that I would scrape by, enough to keep me away from deaths door, but I don't know if I would be doing as well as I am now. Most of what I do, I do for Prim. My happiness and wellbeing can come second.

She sighs. "I really wish you would do something for yourself for once."

"I do."

"Like what?" she challenges, folding her arms across her chest.

My mind races for something. "I hunt."

"You do that because if you don't we starve. That's not for yourself."

"That's not true. I mean, yes it is a bonus that we get meat out of it, but I would go hunting even we didn't need the meat."

She narrows her eyes at me, watching me skeptically before replying. "Fine. But I still think you need to do something just for yourself."

"I don't have time, Prim." I state.

"Then find time."

I shake my head. I have too much to do to worry about doing something doing something for fun. That's a waste of time and doesn't keep our house from falling apart. Even with everything I do now, it's still falling apart. I sigh, burying my face in my hands. There's no point in arguing with Prim about this.

I lift my head to look at her, curious as to why she grew silent. Tear sprinkle in her eyes as stares at me. For a minute I think I've said something wrong. I open my mouth to speak but Prim beats me to it.

"I miss dad." she states simply. I'm so taken aback by her surprise comment that it takes me a minute to regain my composure before I can even think of replying. A sad smile appears on my lips and I try to swallow back the lump forming in my throat. The hollow ache in my chest.

"Me too." I say, surprising myself at how steady my voice sounds.

"I miss our home in North Carolina. I miss dad singing by the fire in the evening and mom knitting in that rocking chair we had." she says as more tears begin to fall. I reach over and wipe them away, trying as hard as I can to keep mine away. "I miss how he would hold us before bed and tell us stories or how he would chase us around the house when we were little." she lets out a soft laugh through her tears as she recalls the memory.

I try to smile but it doesn't work. Every memory she mentioned increased the pain on my chest, the tears prickling at the back of my eyes. But I refuse to cry. I don't cry. Prim depends on me to be strong and I will. I turn my head away so she can't see my watery eyes.

"I just want him back." She says after a moment, her voice broken and weak. I pull her into a hug and she buries her face into my shoulder. I stroke her blonde hair, curls forming at the bottom, hoping that it will sooth her. At least as much as it can.

She wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing tightly and I hold her closer. I catch a tear of my own with the back of my hand just before it falls. I hate that. I keep my eyes locked on the house across the street, the shadows of the trees that the moon casts on the side of it. I manage to push the tears back but the pain in my chest increases tenfold, leaving me feeling even more hopeless than before.

* * *

Finnick's head snaps up suddenly, causing me to drop my rag in surprise. He had been helping me wipe down the equipment since the last person he was helping train left early. And, as much as I objected and told him I could handle it myself, he joined me anyway. Much to my displeasure. I already have to deal with his suggestive comments just in passing, I didn't need to spend whole hours with him.

It seems like he can't go five minutes without talking about how 'incredibly sexy' he is. I really just wish he would be quiet so I can work. If Haymitch just happened to meander down from his house on the second floor and saw me in a heated conversation with Finnick, that would just give him all the more reason to fire me. And I don't need to give him anymore reasons. I've already provided him with enough.

Finnick stares at me, his green eyes wide and excited. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday." I say curtly, picking my rag up. The dirt and dust the rag collected from its short time on the floor causes me to scowl. Does anybody ever sweep here? I knock it against the bar of the weight bench. A cloud of dust flies off each time it makes contact until, finally, nothing else comes off.

"Yes!" Finnick half-screams, raising his arms in the air. I stare at him quizzically. "It's pastry day." He tells me excitedly, confusing me even more. I continue to wipe down the bench, making sure to remove any dust and sweat.

"Don't you wanna know what pastry day is?" He asks expectantly.

"No. I have to work." I say, trying to keep the agitation out of my voice. I could care less what pastry day is. As long as it doesn't bother my work or it doesn't keep me from getting my pay check, I would rather not hear anything about it.

"You can work while I tell you." I glare at him, hoping that he'll take the hint that I don't want to hear about it. But he doesn't. "Every Wednesday Peeta brings in a batch of freshly baked pastries for everyone at work. They are the most incredible, flaky, buttery things you will every taste." he tells me as he licks his lips.  
My eyebrows shoot up at the sound of Peeta's name before confusion sets in. "Why would he do that?" He doesn't even work here.

"That's just the kind of guy he is." he answers with a shrug.

"He'd waste his money to buy pastries to bring to a place that he doesn't even work at?" I ask doubtfully. What could he possibly be getting out of that?

"Oh, no he doesn't buy them."

"Then what does he do? Fish them out of the dumpsters?"

"You know, you really should try working on that temper of yours."

I glare at him. "I'll work on my temper when you realize you're not sexy."

"Well that would be difficult to realize since it's not true." He answers with a smirk. I roll my eyes at him, moving to the next bench to wipe it down. When I hear his footsteps following me, I groan. I was so hoping he would just leave. He stands next to me, watching as I rub the bench, the handle bar.

Running a hand through his bronze hair he speaks again. "He bakes them."

My hand freezes, my fingers clutching the rag tighter. I slowly stand up straighter, turning to Finnick in the process. He watches me with a knowing smirk, his arms crossed against his chest. I scowl at him. "He bakes?" I ask.

"Yep. He works part time at his mom's bakery." He says with pride and my brow furrows.

"How does he have time? He's always here." I say, my tone sounding accusing. At my question, Finnick's smile drops and his arms fall limp at his sides. He green eyes stare at the floor; the mischievous look that is always there all but disappears.

"He finds time." He mumbles so quietly that I just barely catch it. I stare at him for a moment trying to figure out the sudden change in his demeanor. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, unwilling to look at me. I can feel my frustration growing with each second and, before I can stop myself, I burst out, "What's going on with Peeta?"

Finnick's head jerks up, his eyes wide.

"I'm not an idiot." I say. "I know something is going on with him and I'm getting tired of seeing you and Annie always giving him sympathetic looks or always stopping the conversation anytime something more than his training is mentioned."

He stares at me, his eyes boring into mine, searching for something. I can feel my face heat up from frustration as I glare at him.

He speaks slowly, like you would to a child. "It's not my place to tell you. If he wants you to know, you will."

His answer does nothing but frustrate me even more. For more than one reason. He's right; I barely know Peeta and it's none of my business what goes on in his life. I can't blame Peeta for not telling me either. What was I expecting? For Finnick to tell me all the deepest and darkest secrets of a boy a just met? No, I wasn't expecting that. I don't know what I was expecting.

And, suddenly, I feel bad for asking anything. It wasn't my place. But I'm still annoyed so I send another glare at him before tossing my rag down on the bench and walking away. "I'm taking my break." I hiss over my shoulder, not bothering to looking back.

As I pass the front desk, I see Annie watching me with confusion. Her eyes dart back to Finnick than back to me. She shakes her head slightly with a sigh before looking back down to the papers on her desk. I wonder how much she heard of our conversation. I know I wasn't talking that discreetly.

I can barely see the buildings across the street through the dirt covered windows. I push the front door open causing it to groan loudly and I wince. Automatically, the smell of gasoline and rain hits me and I can't help but think that whether I'm inside or outside, this whole city smells like a waste land.

With a frustrated sigh, I slump down on the curve, resting my head on my knees. I close my eyes, letting the soft breeze blow a stray stand of hair out of my face. The humidity must be high today because I can feel the moisture in the air, causing me to sweat. The air is heavy and groggy and I can feel my exhaustion catching up to me.

I barely got any sleep last night, both Prim and mine's sleep was consistently interrupted by nightmares. Even if I was able to drift of, if only for a few minutes, I woke up soaked in sweat as I dreamed about my father's death in more than one way. I knew it was especially bad when Prim even woke up screaming once. The conversation we had before bed was most likely to blame for that. That's why I prefer to keep that subject untouched.

I tell myself to open my eyes, knowing that if I keep them closed I will most likely fall asleep. But I can't. I'm too tired and confused to listen. So I keep them closed, trying to empty my mind of my previous conversation that keeps creeping its way into my head like a virus. I fight it, pushing it to the back of my mind and concentrate on something simple. Like the warm concrete beneath me.

My time keeps ticking away, second by second. Minute by minute. I'm only allowed a five minutes break and I'm sure I've been out here for longer. But I can't go back inside yet, not until I'm more calmed down. My head feels muddled, foggy just like the air. I keep searching for the reason of my discomfort but nothing comes up.

I groan, burning my face in-between my knees, letting my braid slide over my shoulder. Positive that it wasn't just the fact that Finnick wouldn't tell me anything, I look for another explanation. Because there has to be something. And when it hits me, I'm so absolutely mortified that I automatically push it back as far as it will go. Willing it to leave as quickly as it came.

I focus on they alley across the street, on the cat that prowls back and forth, a large object dangling from its mouth. I can almost hear it hissing at something from where I sit. It's dark out but not because it's night time but because the clouds are thick and low in the sky. It could rain any second and I probably wouldn't even notice. A war wages in my head as thoughts of him slid forward and I squint at the cat, it's back arched as it paws at something cautiously.

But it doesn't. It keeps playing over and over in my head, making me believe that I'm losing my mind. I probably am because the idea is so preposterous and ridiculous. It plays again in my head. I groan again, fighting the urge of screaming out loud. I shake my head.

Before I can think about this any longer, the sound of loud footsteps knocks me out of my thoughts and I stiffen. Cautiously, I look up, expecting to see Haymitch coming to tell me I'm fired for taking a long break. Or maybe Finnick coming to chew me out. When I see that it's neither of them, my eyes grow wide and I quickly advert my eyes to the road, hoping that he'll just pass me and go in without trying to talk.

"Katniss? Are you alright?" he asks. The question catches me off guard and I look at him. He watches me, his blue eyes concerned, his curls a slight mess. He slings his gym bag down gently, adjusting the white box in his hand and sits next to me but a few feet apart. He must have seen how crazy I feel.

"Fine." I mumble, looking back at the road. I can sense he wants to ask me something but he doesn't. I can't bring myself to look at him, especially not with the thoughts I was just thinking before he arrived. I'm still confused and his presence isn't really helping any.

"Okay." he says quietly. I watch from the corner of my eye as he fiddles with a string hanging off his gym bag, every now and then sending me concerned glances. My head falls back to me knees and I do my best to shove any thoughts of him out of my head.

I focus on the alley across the street, on the cat that prowls back and forth, a large object dangling from its mouth. I can almost hear it hissing at something from where I sit. It's dark out but not because it's night time but because the clouds are thick and low in the sky. It could rain any second and I probably wouldn't even notice. A war wages in my head as thoughts of him slid forward and I squint at the cat, it's back arched as it paws at something cautiously.

My plan is completely blown out the window when he speaks. "Would you like to try a pastry?"

I consider shaking my head and telling him no because I really don't need anything from him. If anything, it would probably be better if he just left me alone. But my curiosity gets the better of me and I nod my head, much to my displeasure. This isn't going to help any. He smiles at me and pulls the white box onto his lap, flipping it open. He spots me eyes the box and he motions for me to move closer.

When I don't move, he takes the liberty of scooting closer, positioning the box so I can easily see inside. A sweat smell floats out of the box and my mouth waters. It's full of at least a dozen different pastries. We used to buy things like this before my father died but we can't afford it anymore. Prim would be in heaven right now.

Quickly, I scan over the box, examining the perfectly frosted raspberry tarts and the glazed Danishes. They all look incredible, obviously done with someone who takes great care in their work. My eyes land on two rolls shoved up in the corner, cheese baked on the top in a warm golden color. My brow furrows as I try to think of what they are.

As if reading my mind, Peeta answers my silent question, "Those are cheese buns."

"Can I try it?" I ask hesitantly, my eyes still on the rolls. He chuckles and my head snaps up to him. He smiles at me and I glaring at him for laughing.

"Of course you can try one." he says, seemingly unbothered by my glare. I sigh, reaching into the box, and pull out the warm bun. Steam drifts up from it in small wisps. I tear off a piece and gingerly plop it into my mouth. It melts and warms my mouth on contact. I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning in satisfaction. It tastes buttery and flaky, baked to perfection. This is definitely better than any other type of dinner roll I've had. But then again, I haven't had any in over a year.

"You made this?" I ask incredulously.

He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Do you like it?"

I nod my head, still staring at the bun as it rests in my hand. Steam still drifts off of it, filling the area around it in a thin type of fog. I peel off a bit of the cheese backed on top and plop it in my mouth. It really is delicious. "I do." I say.

"I'm glad." he says as he looks up at the sky, his blue eyes bright against the grey. "My dad taught me that recipe." At the mention of his father his easy smile fades, his eyes cloud over, trained on the sky above. He looks almost lost. Like he's missing something that he can't find. He had that same look when I saw him yesterday. "We should probably go inside. I might rain soon." he whispers absently.

I nod my head even though he's not looking at me. The air has chilled a lot since I came out here; it feels crisp from the heavy breeze. An even though the wind is cool, the air itself is still somewhat warm. It looks like we might have a thunderstorm today. I pull my jacket tighter around me, my fingers resting on the rough leather.

We both stand, dusting the dirt of our jeans. He slugs his gym bag over his shoulder, expertly balancing the pastry box on one hand while he adjust the strap on his shoulder. My suspicions are confirmed when we hear a clap of thunder in the distance and the sound of rain as it begins to fall.

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile but just as he turns away I catch a glimpse of the wary look in his eye. Following his lead, we walk to the door and he holds it open for me. I nod a thanks and the cool air from the air conditioner as we enter causes an involuntary shiver to run down my spine. Any other day I would have been thankful for the cool air but it's already cold enough outside.

Finnick notices our entrance and he jogs over from his previous spot of leaning against the front desk. Without a word, he snatches the box from Peeta's hand and walks back to the desk, his eyes already scanning through the pastries. Annie gives him a stern look from behind the counter but he's to absorbed to notice.

"Peeta, did you bake the chocolate covered-oh never mind! I found it!" Finnick calls as he yanks a Danish out of the box. He shoves half of it in his mouth causing crumbs to scatter across the desk and his chin. Barely chewing, he swallows and shoves the other half in hungrily. My eyebrows raise at him, half in surprise and disgust. I've never seen anyone eat that fast.

Peeta's chuckle turns my attention back to him and I see the amused smile on his face. "Do you ever chew, Finnick?" he asks as we walk over to stand in front of the desk.

"There's no need." he replies as he grabs another pastry. Annie grabs a raspberry tart from the box and nibbles on it as she watches Finnick brush the crumbs off his face. She smiles at him, her green eyes filled with an adoration that I hadn't noticed before. And what's an even more of a surprise is when I see him smiling back at her with the same look, though his smile is more crooked.

Reluctantly, Annie's eyes move from Finnick and look to Peeta and I. "How was your guy's night?" she ask us.

"It was okay. I baked." Peeta says. They both turn and look me expectantly.

"Just sat around with my sister." I answer with a shrug, deciding it's not a complete lie. I would rather not tell them about our screaming though out the night or our mother sinking back into depression. It's none of their business.

"You have a sister?" Annie asks as she brushes the bangs out of her eyes.

"Yeah. She's thirteen." I say, my jaw tense. I don't like talking about my family with other people.

Peeta seems to sense my discomfort, changing to subject. "Finnick, did you figure out who I'm fighting yet?"

"Yep. I saw his picture, too. His name is Marvel." he says, brushing off the crumbs on his hands. "He looked pretty scrawny. The match will probably be over in the first round."

Peeta lets out a relieved sigh. "Good. I don't think I'm ready for anyone too big yet."

"Are you kidding me? You just took out Thresh the other day. And he's bigger than you are." Annie nods in agreement.

"Yeah, but I've fought Thresh before. I know his weaknesses better."

"That's true but you are also extremely good at sensing when someone's going to punch you. That kinda cancels it out." Finnick explains.

"You'll do fine, Peeta." Annie assures, "I don't think it matters how big they are. You're just a naturally good fighter."

"Well, if the person is the size of a truck, I'm sure it matters." Peeta says jokingly.

"He's going to be fast though." Finnick says, "The small ones are always the quick ones. He's going to be sneaky."

"So is he going to be running around my legs trying to trip me?"

"He could. Just keep a close eye on his movement. And keep your hands up." Finnick points to him at the last sentence to reassure his point. Peeta seems to understand for he nods, a small frown on his lips.

"Are you going to the fight, Katniss?" Annie asks, causing me to freeze. I hadn't even considered going to the fight. I don't even know where it's going to be. Besides, there's no way I'm leaving Prim at home by herself longer than already do. And I'm not taking her to a fight either.

"No, I have to stay home." I say.

"You should go. It's going to be a lot of fun." She says.

"I can't. I have to watch my sister."

"Bring her to the fight." Finnick says as he pushes himself off the counter. "You said she was thirteen. Right?"

I glare at him as he walks over to one of the weight benches and sits down. "Yes." I hiss at him.

"Then she's old enough to go." he says simply, a smirk on his face.

"Not if I don't want her to go." I say, my tone warning.

"Oh, are you one of those over protective sisters?"

"Finnick!" Annie chides. My fist clench a my side as I try to keep my temper at bay. I glare at him again.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I was just asking her a question."

"I'm not over protective. I just don't want her going to see a fight. Plus, I have other responsibilities that I have to worry about." I tell him.

Finnick opens his mouth to respond but Peeta cuts him off. "Finnick, if Katniss doesn't want to go then that's fine."

I can't help the thankful smile that finds its way to my lips as I look at him. But it falters when I see the slight disappointment he's trying to mask. Suddenly, I feel guilty that I'm not going. Honestly, I do think Prim is old enough to see fighting. She's seen enough dead animals that I bring home so I don't see how it would be bad for her to see a couple guys throwing punches at each other. But I can't go. Who will feed my mother dinner because she is incapable of doing it herself?

Peeta gives me a small smile, his eyes never leaving mine but they're not as bright as usual. I almost through up my hand in frustration. Thoughts from my earlier revelation outside come bombarding to forefront of my brain and that does nothing but agitate me even more. Because I know that, on Friday night, my mother will find a way to feed herself. And that realization couldn't be more annoying.

* * *

**Next chapter is the fight and some more characters will be introduced! I'm really excited for that and after chapter 5, things start to pick up a bit. Yay! :)**

**Stuff gets real, man. **

**Well, let me know what you think. I love to hear from you guys. It makes my day. I'm always afraid Katniss is out of character... **


	5. Chapter 5

**AN* SURPRISE! Chapter 5 is early! YAY! :) **

**You guys got a double bonus. An early chapter _and _the longest chapter I have ever written. Exciting stuff. **

**I want to thank all of my reviewers again. It means a lot to me. :D **

**I especially want to thank Of Pearls and Paints for your reviews. I'm really glad you take the time to give me long reviews and it lets me know what you like more about the story. It helps me out a lot. So thank you. :) **

* * *

Chapter 5

Tossing my bag onto my bed, I hurry to the other side of my room to grab my jacket. I hang it over my arm as I grab my subway pass from my dresser. It crinkles in my hand from my haste and I shove it onto my bag. I turn around so quickly my braid flies up to hit me in the face. With an annoyed huff, I toss it over my shoulder with more force than necessary. I'm already agitated and the last thing I need is my hair, of all things, to become a nuisance.

Prim runs into the room, her braids flopping up and down as she snatches her shoes from the closet. As she shuts the door, it comes lose from the hinges at the top and she jumps back in surprise as the bottom hits the floor with a loud thud. Slowly, she turns around to face me, an apologetic and guilt smile plastered on her face. I sigh and tell her we'll fix it when we get back. We're already running late as it is.

We both jog down the hall, Prim's shoes in hand and my bag slung over my shoulder. As we pass my mother's room I consider telling her we'll be back later but one look inside and I change my mind. I shake my head as I see her slumped across her pillows, her small form being swallowed up by her nightgown as she stares at nothing. I reach inside, grab the cool handle, and gently shut the door. Prim doesn't need to see that.

As I enter the entryway, Prim is already sitting on the bench as she ties her shoes. I frown as I watch her. "Did you grab a coat, Prim? It's raining." She pouts at me, obviously trying to get me to relent but I cross my arms and give her a stern look. She groans and runs past me down the hall again. I have to fight a smile at how amusing it is to get her to listen.

Taking Prim's previous spot on the bench, I sit down causing it to moan under my weight. I slide my boots over just as Prim runs back in, panting as her chest rises and falls. I quirk an eye brow at her but she doesn't notice. Her shoes are already on and she stands as she waits for me, her hands on her hips. Quickly, I tie my shoelaces, only managing to fumble twice.

"Do you have the directions?" Prim asks. My eyes grow wide and I throw my bag onto my lap and dig through the contents, searching for that yellowing piece of paper with Annie's neat writing across it. I squint inside, pushing back paper and other useless things. The tips of my fingers brush over a particularly ruff paper and I smirk as I yank it out of my bag. Black ink splotches the slip in the form of an address and I hold it out for Prim to see. "Got it." I say.

"Good, now let's go. The subway probably left us already." She says as she pulls on my hand. I stuff the paper back into my bad and let Prim attempt to pull me up. She gives me a look when I don't budge and I laugh at her disgruntled expression. Always the most prompt, even for the subway. I grab her hand and we head out the door and towards the subway station.

As we walk, the sun glints off an object and straight into my eyes. My hand moves to cover my eyes instinctively and I squint at the object to see what it is. The sun shines off the side mirror of a small black car. It looks so out of place in this rundown neighborhood, surround by beat up cars missing bumpers and windows. This car is clean and in pristine condition, its windows are even tinted black. Whoever owns this car is an idiot for parking it here; it's not going to stay that nice for much longer, if it even _stays _here.

* * *

My fingers run over the rough edges of the books. One by one. I run my hand down the row slowly as I admire the large collection. The smell of old and used paper surrounds me, filling the air with its light scent. The dim light casts shadows over the tall bookshelves on either side of me. A constant hush is settled over the room; only the sound of lone whispers can be heard.

I peak through a gap in the books, making sure Prim is still standing on the opposite side. Her back is turned to me as she admires a book full of different treatments for herbs. The flips through the pages slowly, taking her time as she reads a paragraph here and there. She closes it and quickly starched the next book.

Ever since I can remember, Prim has always loved books. Our father used to read us bed time stories when we were little. They were always frivolous stories about Princesses and dragons or birds that sing and dance. She absolutely adored any story that was told, gasping at all the right parts and sighing in happiness whenever the Princesses got her kiss from Prince Charming.

Looking back, I think I even enjoyed them, if only a little. I realize now how ridiculous it was to believe any of that. There is no such thing as a fairytale ending or everlasting happiness and love. And to believe in that is waste of time because no matter what, you'll just be disappointed. In people and hope. It just doesn't work that way.

But I let Prim continue to enjoy that kind of thing. If Prim didn't have anything to hope in, even if it's pointless, I don't think she would be able to live in a world like this. I don't think she would be able to deal with all the terrible things that surround her. Sometimes she's too good for her own good. And I don't have the heart to tell her otherwise. So I don't.

As quietly as I can, unwilling to disturb the serene silence covering the area, I make my way over to Prim, moving to the next aisle. She glances up at me as I approach but her eyes automatically dart back to the worn book in her hands. The pages look torn and I can make out faint coffee stains spotting the yellowing paper. I bend down to read the title of the book. 'Herbal Remedies for the Common Cold'.

I straighten back up. "Are going to check this one out?" I whisper. She shrugs, to absorbed in her reading to answer. I take that as a yes. "I'm going to go look up the address." I whisper to which she gives a small nod. With a small chuckle, I turn around and head for the rows of computers in the center of the room. I find an unoccupied computer and plop down into the seat, setting my bag on the desk.

I pull out the yellowing slip of paper and set it next to the keyboard. I open up the internet browser and type in the address. Leaning back in my chair, I wait for the page to load. It may be a slow connection but it's better than the non-existent one I have at home. The swivel chair creaks loudly as I turn more directly in front of the bright computer screen. A few people look up from their monitors to give me annoyed looks.

Finally, the page loads and I search the desk for a pencil. A scowl when I notice the absence of the writing tool. What library doesn't have pencils everywhere? I search my bag but find it bare of anything to write with as well. Suddenly, I pencil slides into my line of sight and I follow the arm up to see Prim smirking at me. She drops the pencil to the desk as she pulls up a chair to sit next to me.

"Thanks." I mumble as I start to write the address down on the back of the paper Annie gave me.

"You're welcome." Prim says. "Is it far?"

I shake my head. "No. The subway goes right by it. It shouldn't take too long." I fold the paper up and shove it back into my bag. I look back to Prim to see her arms empty. "Are you going to check out a book?"

"No, I don't think we have time." She says.

I look up at the old clock hanging over the checkout desk. "We have plenty of time. Go get it." I say as I point to the aisle she come out of. She grins, thanking me over and over again as she skips back to the books. I have to put my hand over my mouth to keep my laugh in.

As I wait, I browse the page for the arena in town that Peeta's fight is at. It seems large but not gigantic. I shouldn't be easy to get lost in, that's for sure. I don't even know what possessed me to agree to go. I don't want to go to a packed arena, surrounded by sweaty men cheering for whoever throws the best punch or kicks the highest. I'm not and never will be interested in fighting. I could honestly care less.

But something about what Finnick said about me being one of those over protective sisters convinced me to go and show him wrong. I don't like people judging me or acting like they know me when they don't. I've only known him for less than a week and he acts like we've been best friends forever. Even if I had worked with him for a year, I doubt I'd tell him anything about me anyway. He doesn't need to know the ins and outs of my life no more than I need to know the ins and outs of his. And he seems just like one of those people who loves to exchange business cards and mother's favorite recipes.

Like the traitor it is, my brain chooses now to remember all my thoughts from Wednesday while I was sitting outside right before Peeta arrived. I groan. I had successfully managed to forget about it until now. It's still so ridiculous to think about. It doesn't make sense. I'm already annoyed with myself for even thinking what I did. So, like before, I shove it to the back of my brain and try to forget again.

My focus gathers back to the screen just in time for Prim to return, her arms stacked with medical books. She sighs happily as she plops down into the seat again. She leans over to get a view of my screen. "Wow." She breathes, "It's pretty big there." I nod, my eyes trained on a picture of the arena from above, the lights are dark as if a fight is about to begin.

"Which of your friends is fighting?" She asks.

"He's not my friend." I snap. She raises an eyebrow at me, her blue eyes searching mine. "Sorry." I mumble. "But he's not my friend. I barely know him."

"Okay...well who is it?" She asks carefully.

"His name is Peeta. I really don't know much about him except that he fights and he works in his mother's bakery."

Prim's eyes light up. "He bakes?" She asks a little too loudly and I clamp my hand over her mouth before she can start squealing. More than one annoyed glance is shot our way and I glare at them before removing my hand. "Sorry." She says, much quieter this time. "But he bakes? Like cakes and stuff?"

"Yeah."

"You have to get him to bring you one!" She bounces on her seat in excitement and I have to place my hands on her shoulders to keep her down. I make a mental note not to mention baking and pastries in quiet places around Prim.

"He already did." I say simply.

"He brought you a cake? And you didn't ask?" She asks incredulously.

"No, of course not. Apparently he brings them every Wednesday for the people at work."

"Awww, that's sweet of him, huh?"

"Yeah I guess." I say with a shrug. I gather my bag onto my shoulder, ready to end our conversation about Peeta. It feels weird talking about him.

Prim sighs heavily. "Katniss. Give him a chance." Prim says with exasperation.

"A chance for what? I don't need any friends." I say more harshly than intended.

"I didn't say you _needed_ any but wouldn't it be nice to have someone to talk to who wasn't your thirteen year old sister?"

"No. I don't have time for that."

"Yes you do. I just think you don't want to." She says as she plays with one of her braids.

"So what if I don't?"

"Katniss, friends are good for you. They bring you joy. Just give him a chance. Or anyone really! I don't care just find someone to make you happy." She pleads, her eyes silently begging me.

"I am happy." I snap.

She shakes her head with disappointment. "Don't lie to yourself. It's one thing that you're already lying to me but don't lie to yourself. I'm not blind, Katniss. Anyone with eyes could see you're not happy."

My mouth drops open in shock. I'm not lying to her. I am happy, at least as happy as I can be right now. I just lost my father, we moved. Of course I'm not completely happy but what does she expect? I'm not going to be jumping around like a ray of sunshine or pretend that life is all gum drops and rainbows right now. It's foolish to think that way and it doesn't put food on the table. I have priorities that I have to worry about before I can even think of being happy.

"I doubt you've noticed," Prim continues, her voice low and soft, "but you seem more happy ever since you started working at the gym. I don't know what it is or _who _it is...but I hope it stays that way. You even walk around with a small smile sometimes." She smiles as she says the last part, her eyes dropping to her hands that are neatly folded on her lap. "It's a nice change."

We sit there, neither of us speaking, not knowing what to say. I'm so shocked by her observation that I can neither deny nor confirm it, even though every part of my brain is telling me to deny it with everything I have. I stare at the screen, the arena. Anything but Prim. For some reason it feels like if I look her in the eyes she might discover all my hidden secrets. Buts that's ridiculous. I don't have any.

My voice sounds much quieter than I would have liked, unsure. "We should check out now." Prim nods, her eyes not meeting mine as she repositions her books in her arms and stands. We walk to the checkout desk and Prim gently places her books on the counter as if they might break with too much contact.

"Katniss?" A shy voice asks and for the first time I look up. A small blonde girl stands behind the counter, her hair clipped back on the side of her head. She gives me a tentative smile. "I thought it was you." She says.

"Hey, Madge." I reply. Madge has worked here for as long as I have been coming here. Her father helps run the library and i guess that gets her a free job. I guess you could say we are acquaintances but we barely speak. She is quiet and likes to keep to herself like I do. I can't help but appreciate and respect that. I like people who don't pry.

"How have you been?" She asks kindly. She grabs Prim's books and begins to scan them.

"Fine. Busy but fine." I hand over our library card and she scans it before handing it back. "You?"

"I've been good. Fathers been busy as well. He just opened up another library on the other side of town." She smiles proudly as she hands Prim her books.

"Oh. Well congratulations." I tell her as I take some of the books from Prim to help her carry them.

"Thanks. I guess I'll see you when those are due." She says as she gestures towards the books.

"Yep. I'll see you later." I say as I grab Prim's hand and lead her away from the counter. Madge waves to us as we leave and I nod. We pass through the rows of books as we make our way to the exit. They tower over us, book after book resting gently on the shelves. Even though I don't read much, I can still admire all the different collections and types. Old and new. I grip Prim's hand tighter as we walk through the children's section, a picture book sitting on a shelf with a blonde princess on the cover, standing proud and tall. It reminds me too much of Prim.

* * *

I search the crowd. Person after person knocks into me and Prim as we hurry through the mass of bodies. My grip on her hand is like a vice grip. A particularly sweaty man bumps into my side as he shouts after his friends. My empty hand clenches into a fist at my side as I try to keep my thoughts at finding Annie instead of turning around and punching that guy right in the jaw. That's at least the twentieth time I've had to do that since we arrived a few minutes ago.

The lights are dim and my vision is at a bare minimum at best and the jumping and running people that surround me isn't helping any. It smells of sweat and the air is heavy, heat radiating off of everyone here. Unsurprisingly, the smell doesn't bother me all too much. I've smelled worse in the woman's lockeroom. But by the way Prim's nose is scrunched up in disgust; I know that she is still adjusting.

Along with the shouting and talking, the music is blaring as the announcers introduce the other fighters for the night. The urge to cover my ears is strong but that would mean letting go of Prim's hand. In this place, she would get lost in less than a minute. The longer I'm here, the more and more I regret coming. I should have just let Finnick think what he wants.

I can just barely make out the top of the arena over the crowd. I try to recall where Annie said she would meet us; by the snack bar I think. Unfortunately, I have no idea where that would be. Maybe I should have asked for here to just meet me outside. Peeta's fight doesn't start for a while but Annie said it was best to get here early to get good seat. I scoff at that. There are no seats anywhere.

Suddenly, in a matter of seconds, my hand feels cold. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. My eyes move to my hand entwined with Prim's only to discover it empty. Panic wells in my chest as I turn in a circle, frantically searching for two blonde braids. I shout her name but I can't even hear it over the roar of the music. I shove people aside with all my might, rushing around quickly.

My heart beats unsteadily fast in my chest. I shout her name again but unless she was standing right next to me, there is no way she would have heard it. Maybe not even then. Halting to a stop, I close my eyes and try to think of where she could have gone. I groan as I realize she doesn't know anybody here and she definitely wouldn't have just run off. She could be anywhere by now.

I turn back in the direction we were walking, constantly pushing people aside as I go. Shouts of protest emanate all around me but I barely notice, my mind focused on finding Prim. My heart continues to pound, my hands starting to sweat. The bright glow of the snack bar catches my attention and I rush over as quickly as possible. Brown hair and green eyes come into view.

"Annie!" I breathe between pants, "I need your help. I lost Prim in the crowd." I have to shout for her to hear me, my mouth next to her ear. She pulls back, her eyes wide. She nods quickly and points in the opposite direction. I nod to let her know I understand and turn back around to the direction I came from as Annie heads in the direction she pointed to.

With each passing minute I don't find her, my worry increases. All I see is body after body but none of them are Prim's. I keep looking for her bright blonde braids; I could recognize them anywhere. I must look like a frantic mess to anyone who sees me. Rushing around and screaming Prim's name everywhere. I glare at anyone who pushes against me, my worry coming out as frustration.

My hearing is completely cut off when the crowd erupts into a fit of cheers. I can only guess a fight has started. My throat feels raw from my screaming and I quickly give up on the hope of her hearing me. Continuing to rush, I pass an older couple watching me with confusion. In any other situation, I would have found their expressions extremely comical.

After what seems like hours of searching, my eyes land on blonde hair, blue eyes. But they're not Prim's but Peeta's. He is looking around, his eyes scanning the crowd. A man moves out of the way and I can see him more clearly...holding Prim's hand. She clutches to his hand tightly, most likely cutting off his circulation. She bites her lip in worry as she looks around as well.

I let out a relieved sigh. Her eyes land on me and she breaks out into a smile, her eyes bright. She tugs on Peeta's hand and he looks down at her. I'm already on my way over to them, still pushing people aside in my haste. Peeta looks up just in time to see me grab Prim and wrap her in my arms. I hold her tightly to me and now that the worry is dissipating, my anger is growing.

I hold her out from me. "Don't you dare do that again, Prim!" I shout so she can hear me but she can't. The crowd is too loud. She looks at me quizzically, trying to understand. I groan in frustration. Peeta taps on my shoulder and motions for me to follow him. Before I get the chance to answer he is already walking. His hand still attached to Prim's. I grab her other hand and we follow Peeta as he guides us through the crowd.

As we walk I spot Annie in the crowd. I catch her eye and wave her over. She jogs over to us, her hair ruffling around her as she walks next to me. Peeta holds a door open for us and we all shuffle inside. This must be where all the fighters go to warm up before the fight. As soon as the door shuts, it gets quiet, the sound of the crowd and music all but disappearing.

The walls are white, grey lockers lining the walls. Light wooden benches sit in the middle of the room. My eyes land on a head of bronze hair and I bite my lip to keep from groaning. Finnick sits on one of the benches, his feet stretched out in front of him. He smirks as he talks to the person standing, her back leaned against one of the lockers in a lazy fashion. She looks like she could really care less if she was here or not.

Annie hops over to them, plopping down next to Finnick on the bench. She greets the girl with a wave and gets an eye roll in response, her spiky brown hair ruffling slightly as she pushes off the lockers. Prim stands in-between me and Peeta, her hands still on ours. Peeta must notice the agitated look on my face for he gently releases Prim's hand and joins the group, his easy smile back on.

I kneel down in front of Prim, my grip firm on her shoulders. "Don't do that again." I tell her sternly. "You scared me to death."

"I didn't do it on purpose." She defends gently, her eyes trained in her shoes.

"Then what happened?"

"Someone bumped into me and I lost my grip on your hand and then I kept getting bumped into and then I couldn't find you and-"

I cut her off as her words become more jumbled the faster she says them. "Alright, it's okay." I say as I try to calm her. "Let's just be more careful next time. Yeah?"

She nods, takes a deep breath and finally looks me in the eye. Her blue eyes search mine, fear still noticeable though not as much as when I first saw her.  
"You're lucky nobody grabbed you." I tell her.

Her eyes light up and she looks over her shoulder quickly. "Someone might have if I hadn't run into Peeta!" She exclaims loudly. At the mention of his name, Peeta looks over at us, breaking the conversation he was having with Finnick. He smile sheepishly and Prim runs over to him and grabs his hand, pulling him over to me. I stand, brushing my jeans off then cross my arms over my chest.

"I ran into him as I was calling for you and he said he knew you and asked if everything was okay. I told him I lost you and he said he would help me find you." Prim says, still holding Peeta's hand. She smiles brightly at him as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Prim, I told you not to talk to strangers." I say sternly. "He could have been lying." I gesture towards Peeta.

Prim's hands land on her hips. "He told me his name, Katniss. You said earlier that your friends name was Peeta. I put two and two together."  
I scowl at her logic. "That's still dangerous. You need to be more careful."

"I'm sorry, it was my fault." Peeta says gently. Both me and Prim look at him, shocked. Prim isn't as subtle as me, her mouth hangs open, her eyes wide. I just stare at him trying to figure out what to say.

"It's not your fault. You helped me." Prim says, her hand clutching his tighter.

I look at Peeta and he gives me an apologetic smile. In the bright light of the room, I can see a bruise clearly formed on his right cheek. His blue eyes lock with mine, kind and warm. It's true that it's not his fault. He was just helping my sister and for that I am extremely grateful. Even though I've only known him for a week, for some ridiculous reason, I feel like I can trust him. That thought both scares me and confuses me. For the second time today, my thoughts from outside the gym on Wednesday creep back up on me. I shake my head to clear.

"She's right." I say quietly, not completely trusting my voice at the moment. "Thank you." I try not to sound awkward but in truth the whole situation makes me uncomfortable. Prim beams at me. Her eyes are bright with excitement, probably happy that I didn't blow up on him.

"You're welcome." He says gently. My eyes move to the bruise on his cheek again.

"Did we miss your fight?" I ask as I gesture towards his cheek. I'm grateful for the distraction. His brow furrows as his hand moves up to his face, as if he forgot he had it. He winces as his fingers lightly brush the bruise, his eyes growing dark.

"No. It starts in a few minutes." His blue eyes drop to the ground, his cheeks slightly tinted pink. Prim's brow furrows as she watches him in concern, obviously picking up on his change in attitude. I glance over his shoulder to catch the look of sympathy Annie and Finnick send him before resuming their conversation with the other girl.

The look on Peeta's face tells me I shouldn't ask but before I can stop myself I blurt out, "How did you get the bruise then?" I don't feel completely terrible when my voice actually has some concern in it.

The group behind us suddenly quiets to mere whispers as if waiting for his answer. Peeta seems to think about it, his eyes filled with concentration but just as quickly as the look comes, it disappears, the easy smile returning though I can still see another emotion that he's trying to hide. I just don't know what it is. "I was wrestling with my brother earlier." He says with a shrug, his eyes not meeting mine. The feeling that he's lying to me makes me feel uneasy but I let it slide. It's growing more and more hard to keep reminding myself that it's not my business.

Suddenly, Finnick is at Peeta's side, his arm slung over his shoulder. "Come on, Pete. We have to warm up." He says a little too cheerily. Peeta nods before gently letting go of Prim's hand and following Finnick to the other side of the room. Only now do I notice the other people in the room. Young men, shirtless in tight fitting shorts throwing kicks and punches at who I assume are their trainers.

The room smells faintly of sweat but it's not nearly as bad as the gym. Shiny hardwood floor is beneath us. The sound of sneakers shuffling against the wood squeaks loudly, disrupting the fairly quiet room. The only other sound is the grunting of fighters and the instructions spewing from the trainers, always telling them to dodge better or to watch out for the right hook.

Prim moves to stand next to me, eyeing Annie and the other girl in curiosity. I figure I should probably introduce Annie. I grab Prim's hand and guide her over to her. Annie looks up and smiles brightly at us, her green eyes friendly.

"Hi, Katniss. Is this your sister?" She asks.

"Yeah. This is Prim." I say as I move Prim in front of me.

"Hi, Prim. It's nice to meet you. My name's Annie."

"Hi, Annie. It's nice to meet you too." Prim says as she gives a big wave.

Annie turns to the other girl. "Jo, say hi."

The girl eyes me and Prim, her hazel eyes scrutinizing as they roam over us. She scowls at us as she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back on the lockers. "Nah, I'm good." She says.

Annie frowns at her. "Johanna, be nice. This is your coworker now." She says as she points to me. I suddenly remember who she is. I haven't met her but Annie mentioned her a few days back. I scowl as it hits me. I have to work with her.

"I don't care if she's the queen." Johanna hisses at me. I glare at her.

"Wow." Annie says. "What's got your panties in a bunch today, Jo?"

"Nothing." She snaps. I can't help but grimace. She's just going to be a joy to work with. Her arms tighten around her chest.

"Oh come on. I haven't seen you this mad since you fought with what's his name. Cato?" Annie asks, unsure. She fiddles with a strand of her hair, a small frown on her lips.

"Yeah. I hate Cato!" Johanna says, scowling.

Annie sighs in exasperation. "I know. So what happened?"

"I found the idiot at the movies when I went with Cressida and saw him locking lips with Clove!" She grimaces. "They may as well have just gone home with how fast they were going at it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jo." Annie sympathizes, although it seems forced.

Johanna starts her ranting again and I decide it would be best to tune them out. I've never been helpful with boy problems or gossip. The most I could do is just nod my head so they know I'm listening and even then I probably wouldn't be. I already decided a long time ago that I'm never getting married. Never having kids. I'm not risking raising a child in a place as terrible as this. Getting married leads to kids and I'm not doing that.

Relationships are pointless anyway. They make you dependent on someone other than yourself. They make you weak without your consent. That's what happened to my mother. She became too dependent on my father and when he died she broke down and still hasn't picked up the pieces. She most likely never will. If there's one thing my mother taught me it's that relationships are dangerous.

Love can manipulate all your other emotions without you even realizing. It's a sneaky killer that has the best strategy: heart over mind.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when Prim tugs on my hand. I look down at her curiously. "The fights about to start." She tells me. I look around to see Annie and Johanna already walking out the door. Finnick and Peeta are just finishing their warm up. Finnick slaps Peeta on the back encouragingly. They walk over to me and Prim, Peeta with a bright but nervous smile and Finnick with a smirk.

"Alright, it's show time." Finnick says. "Just remember to keep your hands up. If you do, I'm sure you'll do fine."

Peeta nods, his blonde hair falling into his eyes slightly. "Okay." He says nervously.

"You'll do fine, Pete. Marvel is a scrawny little bean stock. Don't worry." He flashes Peeta another smile, patting him once again on the back before turning to me and Prim. "I'll show you guys your seats. Front row." He winks at me and I roll my eyes.

Prim turns to Peeta. "Good luck!" She says excitedly.

He smiles and tugs on the end of one of her braids causing her to giggle. "Thank you, Prim."

I watch the two interact, how they look like they've known each other for years when in reality they've probably only spoken ten words together. I'm sure anyone who was watching probably would have thought they were siblings. Both of them have blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen.

I can feel the corners of my lips twitch up in a smile when Prim wraps her arms around his waist. He looks shocked at first but it doesn't take him long to return the hug. He smiles at her when she pulls away. When he looks up at me, my eyes automatically dart to the floor, my cheeks warming slightly.

"I'll see you guys after the fight." He says and I gather up enough courage to look at him.

"Good luck." I say quietly. He gives me a warm smile and much to my frustration, my cheeks warm again. I'm glad for the distraction when Finnick waves me and Prim over from his spot at the door. We follow him obediently, the noise rushing back to us as he opens the door. The music is no longer playing but the crowd is still extremely loud. The lights are brighter now, a fight in progress.

Finnick leads us to our seats which happen to be right next to Annie and Johanna. Front row just like he said. They're elevated just enough to see bottom of the arena. Annie waves at us as we sit down and Prim responds just as enthusiastically. An older man sits on my right, Prim on my left. I scoot as close to Prim as possible, not wanting to be arm to arm with the sweaty man munching on nachos. A small drop of cheese slide down his chin as he shoves another chip in his mouth. I grimace.

We sit for a few minutes as we wait for the current fight to end. The air is thick and heavy and the longer I sit next to the man the more nauseated I get from the smell of the cheese. A bell rings loudly and the crowd cheers for the fighters. An announcer walks to the center of the stage and announces a winner by TKO. I hear Prim ask Annie what that means and, under the sound of the crowd, can just barely make out Annie explaining that it means a knockout.

As the fighters exit the arena the lights dim again. The crowd hushes in anticipation. The loud speakers announce the fighters. First is Marvel. The music playing for his entrance is loud and booming as the crowd screams and hollers. He enters the arena, bouncing up and down as he waves his fists in the air. Finnick was right. He is scrawny. His hair is a light brown; a goofy grin on his face that I assume is supposed to look intimidating. His bare chest is puffed out but it still looks skinny. Almost like he's malnourished but I highly doubt that.

Next is Peeta. Unlike Marvel's music, Peeta's is slower and doesn't hurt your ears with every note. I'm not sure who picks the music but whoever it was did a great job. The crowd is just as responsive to him as they were to Marvel, cheering and shouting his name. He enters the arena, not as active as Marvel but still moving around to stay warmed up. His hair is ruffled, his blue eyes alert.

When he smiles at the crowd I could swear every girl squeals with giddiness. Even Prim, much to my amusement. Compared to Marvel he has the essence of a true charmer. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. He definitely has the looks and the personality.

Unlike Marvel, Peeta looks intimidating without even trying. His broad shoulders and muscles make him look like he could take down a bull without even breaking a sweat. I catch Prim staring at him opened mouthed, her blue eyes watching him closely, mostly in the chest area. I give her a nudge on the side with my elbow and her mouth snaps shut, her cheeks blushing scarlet.

Colorful lights roam around the room and the music starts to fade. Once the crowd has finally calmed down somewhat the announcer takes his spot in the middle of the arena and begins to explain the rules. The lights brighten slightly, the bell ringing as Peeta and Marvel bump their fists together before hurrying back to their corners.

They circle each other, the occasional punch thrown. Marvel jumps around quickly, testing Peeta before he goes in for anything too serious. Peeta doesn't seem to mind because he's doing the same thing, his eyes glued to Marvel as he anticipates his actions. I can hear Johanna and Annie shouting for Peeta to punch him, their voices becoming muffled by the other cheers. Prim bites her lip as she watches, her eyes darting between Marvel and Peeta where they seem to linger a little longer than necessary.

Once Marvel seems satisfied with whatever tests he was doing on Peeta he lunges forward, fist raised. It's almost pathetic how easily Peeta blocks it. I'm sure one good punch to Marvel's jaw would knock him out clean. Heck, you could probably just push him over and that would be the end of it. Peeta doesn't take that approach though; instead he continues to watch Marvel closely. It's like a game of cat and mouse.

Marvel tries again, this time his speed is an advantage as he barely gets a jab in on Peeta's cheek. That's all it takes for Peeta to hit Marvel right in the jaw. He staggers back, stunned before he darts out of the way. Peeta throws another punch but Marvel ducks and runs behind Peeta before he makes contact. Finnick was right again. The small ones are fast.

Marvel, still behind Peeta, jumps on his back. His arms lock around Peeta's throat. Prim gasps in surprise and I can feel my own eyes widening. Peeta grabs onto Marvel's arm trying to free himself. When that doesn't work, he uses his size as an advantage, gripping hard as he throws Marvel over his shoulder and on to the ground. Even from here, I can hear the breath that's knocked out of him when his back meets the floor of the arena with a loud smack.

Wasting no time, Peeta jumps on Marvel, successfully pinning him down. Prim sits on the edge of her seat, biting her lip so hard that I'm surprised it's not bleeding yet. The man next to me jumps up, some of his chips flying out of his tray and landing to the floor in a cheesy glob. He shouts Peeta's name as he cheers him on. And now, for some reason, he seems less annoying.

My eyes never leave Peeta as he almost grudgingly punches Marvel. It looks like he doesn't want to hurt him, as if he actually feels bad for him. Annie and Johanna are soon in their feet as well. They clap and scream encouragements and Prim follows along. Peeta throws another punch, his hair falling into his eyes. Marvel scrambles to get up but Peeta's grip is too tight and he can't move. One more punch and the referee is there pulling Peeta off of Marvel who's looking dazed.

The crowd erupts. The bell rings.

I feel pain in both of my palms and I look down to see my hands gripping the edge of my seat like theirs no tomorrow. I blush when I realize I got just as wrapped up as Prim. She is screaming her head off now as she jumps up in down, her grin threatening to take up her whole face.

Marvel had gotten up now and joined Peeta and the referee in the middle of the arena. The referee takes both of their writs in his hand, each of then standing on either side of him. Both of them are breathing heavily, their chests heaving up and down with each breath. Sweat drips from their brows as they try to fill their lungs with air.

The announcer says the winner and I find myself smiling as the referee raises Peeta's arm in the air as he drops Marvel's. Peeta smiles tiredly but it's still bright and happy. The crowd cheers again and I move to my feet and join everybody else as I clap for him. Peeta's eyes land on me and his smile grows, his cheeks flushed from his fight. I give a timid wave at him in return.

Suddenly, Finnick is on stage dragging Peeta to the side. He leans down and whispers in his ear. I watch in confusion as Peeta's smile fades, dread filling his eyes. He looks frantic as he grabs the towel Finnick was holding and darts out of the arena, Finnick following close behind.

I turn to Prim to see her looking just as confused as I feel. The concern I feel isn't tampered when I look behind her to see Annie and Johanna staring off in the direction Peeta ran with equal masks of terror on the faces. My stomach grows uneasy. The same worry I was feeling earlier when I lost Prim sinks back into me. And I'm left staring after Peeta as I try to figure out what just happened.

* * *

**So, I had another scene that was supposed to be at the end of this chapter but it ended up being _so_ long that I decided to save if for next time. And, now that I think about it, I think it's better that way. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN* I'm back from vacation! Obviously. I'm so, so sorry for the long wait. This chapter was very hard to write but I finally got it finished. **

**I would like to thank Hungergamesfan015 for making my week by calling Peeta's mother a banshee. I laughed so hard when I read that. Thank you. :)And of course, everyone else who reviewed, thank you a ton. Every review means so much to me. And WOW almost 80 reviews already. You guys _rock_. :D**

**Anyway, enjoy chapter 6. **

* * *

Chapter 6

I lean against the doorway of my mother's room, my arms crossed over my chest as I wait for Prim to finish saying goodnight. It's her routine. Every night Prim spends hours trying to coax my mother to eat something even if all she can get into her is one bite full. She pleads and begs; always nudge a spoon at her hoping she will accept. When Prim finally gets her to eat something, she sets her plate on the nightstand and strokes her hair as she falls asleep.

As much as I want to look away, block the image of my baby sister comforting my mother when it should be the other way around, I can't. It's a bitter reality that I've grown used to in the last year. As I silently watch Prim stroke my mother's blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes closed tight trying block out whatever it is that plagues her thoughts, I see my mother before my father's death. Her cheeks rosy, her smile wide as she listens to my father speak. Her comforting words she would whisper to me and Prim before bed.

But I stare at her now and reality is quick to remind me that I'll never experience that again. In the fading light softly spilling in from the open window, my mother's hollow cheeks and sunken eyes are a reminder of just that. And as much I would give anything to have my family back, back to how it used to be, I have learned that wishing for that only makes the pain worse. I have a feeling that that's exactly what it's doing to Prim.

My mother's breathing evens out as she drifts off and, like every night, Prim kisses her forehead, whispers goodnight and leaves the room. As she passes me she gives me a sad smile, her eyes moist. I silently scream at my mother for causing the pain so clearly written on Prim's face. I've often wondered if it would be better to stop Prim's routine. That maybe if I did, Prim could move on faster and realize that her mother is never coming back. The idea never lasts long. One look at Prim and I know that even if I wanted to keep her away, I wouldn't be able to.

Wordlessly, I follow Prim to our bedroom. My head is pounding from all the events of this evening and I want nothing more than to fall asleep. I can still hear the music blaring in my ears. The roar of the crowd. Rubbing my temples, I sit on the edge of my bed and squeeze my eyes shut. I can already feel myself returning to that strange feeling that I had earlier, since we left the arena. Up until now, I had managed to keep it at a bare minimum with a lot I effort and watching Prim and my mother was a welcome distraction. But now that I have nothing to distract me, the feeling hits me full force and my head pounds even harder.

Slowly, I open my eyes. Prim stands by the closet, a worried expression on her face as she watches me. I try to offer her a smile but its weak and overall a pitiful attempt. She sighs as she walks over to me. My brow furrows as I try to think of something to say. Prim takes the lead and gently sits next to me on the bed. After a few minutes of silence, me staring at the floor as my head throbs, Prim fiddling with the blanket, she finally speaks.

Her voice is soft and knowing, barely breaking a whisper. "He'll be okay, Katniss."

My mouth drops slightly open in shock and confusion. I rack my brain trying to push past the fog in my head as I try to figure out what she's talking about. Once again, I squeeze my eyes shut as my head falls into my hands. It seems that with every passing second, my headache gets worse. And it really isn't helping my confusion.

"Who are you talking about?" I manage to say, my voice sounding weak.

I can almost hear the eye roll in Prim's voice as she speaks. "You know who."

I groan in frustration. I'm in absolutely no mood for riddles. I lay back on the bed, being sure to keep my eyes closed to block the light out. Just that movement alone sends another wave of pain through my head. "No, Prim, I don't." I mumble.

She sighs and I feel the bed dip as she lies next to me. I wince as the old springs creak and scrap with the movement. My hands cover my eyes in a futile attempt to make the pounding stop. It lessens as silence spreads out through the room and I would have been absolutely grateful for that if it wasn't for the fact that Prim has stopped talking. Normally, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but this silence seems uncomfortable, tense.

I turn my head to the side as I peak one eye open. Prim is staring at the ceiling, her brow furrowed as she's deep in thought. Her blue eyes never waver from the brown splotch in the corner of the ceiling. Blonde hair fans around her head, a golden tint in contrast to the white comforter. She bites her lip as if she's contemplating on whether or not to speak. It's obvious she wants to say something, though, so I nudge her with my elbow.

She startles at the contact, her head turning to look at me. She watches me, her eyes hesitant. I consider asking her what's wrong but stop myself, figuring that if she wants to tell me, she will. Looking back at the ceiling, she lets out a deep breath as she pushes some of her hair away. I almost roll my eyes at how she seems so conflicted but I'm pretty sure that would just make my headache worse. So, with a ruff sigh, I close my eyes again and wait.

It takes a few minutes but Prim finally speaks. She clears her throat lightly, a habit she has when she's nervous. I open my eyes and look at her again, expectant. I ignore the drumming in my head from the movement as I keep my face calm. She hesitates again but soon her eyes take on a determined look and she opens her mouth as words start flowing out.

"I know you probably won't want to hear this, or even listen but I still have to tell you. I think it would do you good if you knew. Maybe it won't, but I think it will." she speaks so fast I struggle to catch everything she says. Once I think I caught all of the words the only thing I feel is confusion. I have no idea what she's talking about but I keep my mouth shut and let her continue.

She takes another deep breath. "I'm sorry you have a headache. I think I know why you have it, though." she starts but stops once she sees my confused expression. "I think it's because you're worried." she explains.

"What would I be worried about, Prim?" I ask in exasperation. "It's just been a long night. All the music and screaming caused it." The light seemed brighter now so I closed my eyes again as I try to suppress a groan.

"That might have caused part of it but I'm sure that it's not the whole reason." Prim explains cautiously, as if she's scared I might run out of the room at any second. I rub my face tiredly, a sigh escaping my lips.

"Can you turn the light off, please?" I ask her. Normally, I would just do it myself but I'm positive that even the slightest movement will have me curled up on the floor in pain. Prim mumbles a response that I assume is a yes when I feel her scoot of the bed. I wince again as the springs screech and the bed bounces. Soon, the room goes dark and I can hear the soft footsteps as Prim walks back, settling herself back down.

This time, I am truly happy for the silence. And just about the time I think Prim has given up on talking, her small voice breaks through the air for a second time tonight. "It's okay to be worried about someone."

"What are you talking about, Prim? The only person I would have to be worried about is you and I'm not." the silence stretches on for longer than I would have liked. "Do I need to be worried about you?" I ask her, so completely lost on everything that's happening.

"Gosh, Katniss! I'm not talking about me." she says a little too loudly as she throws her hands up in the air in frustration. She turns to look at me, her eyes begging for me to understand.

"Then what are you talking about?" I ask, just as frustrated as she is.

"Peeta! I'm talking about Peeta, Katniss!" At the sound of his name, my body goes rigged, tense. My head is pounding harder now, and I squeeze my eyes shut with as much force as I can muster. It feels like I'm on a boat, being forcefully rocked back and forth as the light from a lighthouse blares down on me. I've tried my very best to forget that small detail but that all washed down the drain at the mention of him.

"I'm not worried about Peeta." I mumble but my voice wavers and even I can hear the uncertainty in it.

"Oh, stop lying to yourself. Anyone with eyes could see you're worried." she states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not worried about him, Prim." I say more sternly this time and I'm not sure if it's to reassure her or myself.

She props herself into one elbow so she can face me better. Her mouth is turned down in a frown as she watches me. "Yes you are. I saw you in the arena tonight. Your face went completely pale when you saw him run out. And then suddenly you get a major headache? Come on, Katniss. Be realistic."

Behind the shock I can feel anger boiling in my stomach. Something that seems completely foreign when it's directed at Prim. "I am being realistic, Prim! That's exactly how I know that. And even if I was worried it wouldn't matter because I don't have time to deal with that when I have other things that need my attention. Peeta would be the least of my problems."

Her soft blue eyes grow hard at my words as her jaw sets. "That's not realism. That's denying anything or anyone who takes your attention away from what you think is important. And all that consists of is hunting and working. Anytime you feel any emotion towards something other than those things and me, you shut it out and pretend it doesn't exist. But I saw you last night and if you deny that you don't feel _something_ for him, even if it's just friendship, than you are completely deluding yourself."

I can't help it when my mouth drops open in shock, for more than one reason. I open my mouth to argue, to explain that everything she said isn't true. In the back of my mind there's a ripple of doubt but it push it back even further because all of this is completely ridiculous. I don't feel anything for him. So when I start to explain this to Prim, she cuts me off before I can finish the first word.

"I know what you're going to say and you might as well just keep it to yourself." she says tiredly. "I know you don't agree with me but that doesn't mean it's not the truth. I wouldn't lie to you about this."

We stare at each other for who knows how long. My brain is still trying to process everything and my headache is just making it harder. I know Prim wouldn't lie about something she believed in but what she considers the truth might not be accurate. I know for a fact that I don't have any type of feelings for Peeta, even friendship. I've barely known him for a week and only spoken to him a handful of times. Just thinking about him causes my headache to increase and that strange feeling I felt earlier to sneak its way back to me.

For the third time tonight, Prim breaks the silence. Her voice is quite as she speaks to the ceiling. "You're human, Katniss. It's normal to have feelings."

* * *

It's Tuesday already. Haymitch had given me the weekend and Monday off from work. I had spent most of my time hunting, trying to gather as much meat as I could before it got really cold. Winter was just around the corner and meat would be scarce, the animals burrowing away from the cold. That was exactly what I wanted to do. That stupid feeling in my stomach hasn't settled in the slightest and with each passing second I find myself wanting to hide more and more.

My headache had lessened considerably but every now and then it would come back. Prim would make me some kind of herbal remedy for me to drink that helped but it never made it go away. Keeping myself distracted seemed to be the trick. But on the days that I couldn't hunt, I searched the house for things to clean or fix. In that time, I fixed our closet door that broke Friday evening, dusting every surface in the house, and managed to clean the stain off the ceiling in our bedroom.

It never seemed like enough though. Eventually the house was as spotless as I could make it and the cupboards and fridge were filled to the brim with food. It was the most I had seen in our kitchen since my father died. With all the work done, I took to pacing the living room, a constant scowl on my face, or helping Prim with her homework as much as I could. If I didn't stay active, my headache came back and that feeling returned. It was starting to frustrate me that I couldn't find the source for it. Anytime it would sneak up on me I would groan loudly before storming off to find something to keep myself occupied with.

My shift didn't start for another forty-five minutes so I still had a few minutes to wait before I could leave. My fingers tap against the ruff fabric of the rug underneath me. I stare at the brown and grey stains that had covered the previously blue rug. Years of wear and tear had faded it to a dark grey that showed any type of dirt or dust that collected on it. I pick at a few loose strands, rolling them between my fingers over and over again.

Prim continues to shoot me worried glances whenever she'd turn a page to whatever book it was she was reading. Her eyes would watch me for a moment before she would look back down with a slight shake of her head. Then the process started over again with another page turn. She had already told me earlier that she didn't need any help with her homework but I decided to stay by her anyway. Just in case.

It hadn't taken long for her apologies to start spewing from her mouth on Friday evening as she practically begged me to forgive her for everything she had said. I had told her that I wasn't mad, which surprised both of us, and pulled her onto my lap to give her a hug as her hair tickled my nose. With both of us exhausted it wasn't long before we fell asleep.

My eyes glance at the clock hanging on the wall. I scowl as I realize I still have about a five minute wait. In an attempt to get more comfortable on the hard floor of the living room, I shift so that I'm leaning with my back against the couch. It's hard and cold but it was better than my previous position. Prim takes her eyes away from her book, her arms stretching out behind her to lean back on. We watch each other in silence for a brief period.

"Do you think Peeta will be there today?" Prim ask me with concern. I think she cares about him more than I do.

I think about it for a minute, trying not to let my own emotions show and ignoring the knot that forms in my stomach at his name. "I don't know." I answer honestly.

She sighs, her brow furrowing. "Why do you think he ran off?"

I silently wince at the question. As much as I tried not to, my mind couldn't help but make up scenarios and possibilities. Maybe family problems or he missed a date or something. But those all didn't seem right. At least not quite. I go with the safest answer. "He probably missed a date." I say.

Prim rolls her eyes at me. "I doubt that." she mumbles under her breath.

My eyebrows raise. "You don't think he could get a date?"

Prim laughs, her blue eyes sparkling. "Oh, no. I think he would have no problem getting a date with anyone. Did you not see his body?" she asks me playfully.

"Prim! You're too young to be thinking like that." I say as a blush covers my cheeks.

"I'm thirteen, Katniss. I've heard much worse in school. Seriously though, if not his body his smile is enough to win anyone over."

"Prim!"

She laughs at my disgruntled expression and the growing blush on my cheeks. Mostly because I have noticed his smile and how it seems to light everything up. I'm still slightly rattled that my baby sister is noticing that kind of thing. But my brow furrows as I remember something. "Then why didn't you think he missed a date?" I ask.

She hesitates. "It's just that...never mind." she bites her lip, her eyes moving to her book again.

I scowl. "What is it?"

"Really, it's nothing. Trust me." she says, her eyes still glued to the page in front of her as it rest on the rug. Frustrated that she won't answer, I open my mouth to ask her again. She cuts me off. "Don't you have to leave for work?"

I narrow my eyes at her for changing the subject. I glance at the clock and, sure enough, I have to leave. I let the conversation drop as I stand to my feet and head over to the entryway. On my way, I glance out the window to see the sky grey, rain drops running down the window. With a silent groan I grab my coat off the bench and zip it all the way over my work shirt, giving it an extra tug to make sure it stays.

Prim follows me, leaning against the wall as she watches me put on my boots. She plays with the end of one of her braids. "What time do you get home?" she asks.

"I have to close up so I won't be home until ten."

She nods and hands me my bag. I throw it over my shoulder, my fingers readjusting the smooth leather. I give Prim a kiss on the top of her head and open the door, stepping out into the porch. Cold wind blows against my face, a lose strand of hair flying back. From the protection of the awning, only a light mist makes contact with my skin. The street is already soaked, a small stream of water sliding down towards the drains.

I turn back to Prim, a slight grimace on my face. She gives me an apologetic smile as she shrugs her shoulders. "Too bad we don't have an umbrella." she states, trying to hide her smile. I roll my eyes playfully and give her a wave as I start walking down the steps. We exchange goodbyes and I start jogging down the sidewalk.

It doesn't take long for me to get completely soaked from head to toe. The rain is picking up, the drops getting bigger with each minute that passes. I lift my bag over my head to keep the rain out of my eyes. The wind chills me as it rushes past and I hope with everything that I have that I won't get sick. The browning leaves on the trees sway back and forth, one occasionally falling by my feet. I almost come to a complete spot when something catches my eye.

Across the street, standing in front of an old, worn house that's shutters are falling off, a group of men are laughing as they smash a small log against the side mirrors on a car. This type of thing isn't uncommon here. In any other situation, I would have laughed when I see the car is the same one I saw on Friday, the small black one with tinted windows. I'm actually surprised it went this long without getting the windshield smashed in. It was just a matter of time anyway.

I start jogging again. The last thing I need is a group of men to spot me. That's just asking for trouble. I may know how to use a bow and arrow but I wouldn't be able to really defend myself if it came to that. I scowl as I hear more glass shatter against the sound of the rain. The men laugh again, shouting and cursing. I chance a look behind me to see the men tossing the log back and forth as they take turns in smashing a mail box. Pieces of wood fly from it with each time it makes contact. It's things like this that make me the most nervous about leaving Prim at home. That maybe men like them will decides our home is the next stop for whatever they have in mind.

Before I can change my mind and run back home, I quicken my pace. My boots slosh against the water that's puddled on the sidewalk. The edges of my pants are blacked from mud and water. A sigh of relief escapes me when I see the subway come into view. I run now, water splashing around me with each step. My vision is blurred from the rain and I have to squint to make sure I don't trip. The subway car pulls up just as I arrive and I hop on as quickly as possible, the end of my braid dripping water around me.

As I get closer to the gym, I can feel myself growing anxious. That strange feeling returning to my stomach.

* * *

I yank the door open. It creaks and groans as I slam it shut behind me. With a sigh, I lean back on it for support, my head resting against the glass. My fingertips lightly touch the cold glass behind me and the feeling is almost soothing. My chest heaves up and down as I try to catch my breath. I had ran all the way here from the subway to avoid staying out there as long as possible. Water drips off of me, puddling around the floor. I consider ringing my braid out but that would just make a bigger mess for me to clean.

My fingertips lightly touch the cold glass behind me and the feeling is almost soothing.

A playful voice brings me out of my thoughts. A scowl forms on my lips. "Look, Annie. She's melting." Finnick says with a laugh. He smiles at me but I can tell something's off. I glare at him as I wipe away a few strands of hair that was matted to my forehead.

Annie looks up from the front desk, her brow furrowed together with what appears to be worry, and pushes her bangs away. Her eyes widen when she sees me, shock replacing the worry, and she quickly runs over to me. "Oh my gosh, Katniss, you're soaking wet!" she exclaims frantically. She grabs my hand and starts pulling me across the room, towards the locker rooms. My eyes dart to the boxing ring and I feel like my stomach just dropped when I find it empty. My headache starts to return.

Before I can even process that, Annie throws the door open and I feel like I'm being punched with the smell. My noise wrinkles at the stench. Although I'm used to it, it doesn't make it stink any less. But since I've been gone, it seems like it's gotten stronger. The room is filled with steam, indicating that someone just used the showers. I can feel goose bumps form on my cold skin as it meets the warm air. I grimace when I see the stalls are still as disgusting as always.

Annie grabs a white towel and hands it to me. As soon as I grab it she pulls me to the showers and tells me to get in. I stare at her like she's grown a second head. Does she really expect me to use those? She's got to be kidding. Has she not looked inside? That's hazardess to people's heath. I stare at her, waiting for her to explain the joke. When she rolls her eyes, her arms crossed against her chest I realize there's no joke.

"Are you serious?" I ask in disbelief, my eyes widening.

"Do you want to catch a cold?"

"I don't want to catch whatever disease is in there!" I say as I point to one of the showers.

She gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, don't worry about that. Jo just cleaned them before you got here."

I glare at her. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes. Look for yourself." she pulls back a white curtain and gestures for me to look. I hesitate before sighing and peaking in. The floor isn't covered in mildew like it was the last time I saw it. There's no scum buildup around the edge or discoloring. It actually looks clean. And not just clean but new. The walls shine as the light reflects off of it.

"And watch this." Annie says. She reaches in and turns on the water, quickly jumping back before she gets wet. The water flows smoothly from the nozzle in a gentle stream. My mouth drops open in shock. It actually looks inviting.

"How did she do that?" I ask.

Annie beams. "Jo used a toothpick and cleaned all of the buildup out of the holes and then soaked the nozzle in some kind of cleaner so that now the water's not sputtering everywhere."

"Wow." is all I can manage to say. Annie nods in agreement.

"Now get in." she says.

I glance down at my clothes. "I don't have any extra clothes."

"We're like the same size. You can borrow mine. I have an extra change of clothes under the front desk that I keep in case... well in case I have to clean the bathrooms." Her face takes on a disturbed look and I can only imagine what terrible experience in here she has had to endure.

Grudgingly, I nod my head and she practically squeals. She leaves the room so I can change in peace, telling me she'll leave the clothes on the bench. I almost stop her, a question at the tip of my tongue but I stop myself as the door closes behind her. With her distraction gone, my head begins to ache again. The image of the empty boxing ring seems burned into my brain.

I shower quickly, just enough to warm myself up. When I exit the shower a neat pile of clothes is sitting on the bench just like Annie said. I change as fast as I can, a nervous feeling pooling in my stomach. The clothes fit and once my hair is dried and braided down my back, I exit the locker rooms. Automatically, my eyes land on the boxing ring to find it still empty. Hopelessly empty. My stomach drops again, my head starts to pound.

It's grown dark outside, the window black from the lack of light. Only the small glow of one or two lights on in the rooms in the buildings across the street can be seen through the rain covered windows. The light is dim inside; a soft orange glow casts along the walls and floors. I see Annie and Johanna huddled by the front desk whispering to each other with equal masks of worry on their faces. As I walk closer I can make out what they're saying.

"Are you sure Finnick said he would be here?" Jo asks.

"I'm positive. Finnick said that after the fight Peeta said not to worry and he'd be back on Tuesday evening." Annie says, her voice laced with worry. Her eyebrows scrunch together as she bites her lip.

"The idiots probably just running late." I can tell Johanna is trying to hide her concern but by the way her voice slightly shakes at the end I can tell it's there. "Have you heard from him at all?" she asks Annie.

"No." Annie looks like she's on the verge of tears. I feel my throat tighten. "He normally calls if something... happens. But he hasn't yet. Jo, what if it's really serious this time?"

I stop dead in my tracks. _This time?_

"Don't worry too much. It's probably nothing. Plus, Finnick just went to talk to Haymitch." What does Haymitch have to do with anything? "You know Haymitch. He'll handle it."

"He can't stop everything, Jo."

Johanna scowls. "I know."

I'm snapped out of it when I hear murmurs coming from around the corner. Johanna and Annie hear them too and they look up to see me standing a few feet away. They must have realized I heard what they said because Annie is at my side in an instant, Finnick and Haymitch just turning the corner.

Annie grabs my shoulders. "Katniss, this happens sometimes but don't worry too much." she says desperately, and I'm completely baffled as she quickly switches from being on the verge of tears to trying to tell my everything's alright when just a second ago she was doubting it herself. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. My head is swimming, everything Annie and Johanna just said swirling around in my head. I can feel my throat tighten again.

Annie searches my eyes. Whatever she finds it encourages her to wrap her arms around me in a tight embrace. She pulls away, her eyes glistening with tears. My thoughts are so jumbled I can't seem to think straight. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of something to say. Questions keep forming. One after another but one seems to stick out so I ask that. "What's wrong with Peeta?" I wince as I hear the plea in my voice. It's in this moment that I know I had been kidding myself and hoping for the best. But it's obvious now that realize I had it completely wrong.

Annie looks to the others for help. Everyone stays silent. Finnick and Johanna look at the floor, unwilling to meet my gaze. Haymitch looks like he's about to answer but he closes his mouth. I can feel myself growing angry with each second that no one answers my question. My cheeks grow hot and I glare at Haymitch as he looks away from me, his eyes displaying his discomfort. _Wimp._ My fists clench at my sides. "Will someone just answer me?" I shout. Annie flinches and lowers her head, her bangs falling into her eyes. Johanna just crosses her arms and glares at me.

"We don't have time." Haymitch says, his voice clipped. He's glaring at me now, his grey eyes like steel. He heads for the door, slips on his coat, and digs through his pockets until he finds his keys. He turns back to us. "If I'm not back by closing time just go home. Don't wait around." he says sternly. When he opens the door, the smell of rain rushes inside. And just like that, Haymitch disappears into the black.

I stand frozen as I stare at the door. My head is killing me, I can't seem to form any rational thoughs, my eyes feel tired but aside from all that, I feel on edge. I fell like at any moment I could start screaming or just completely breakdown. It's like my body is having a war on how to react and I can't seem to gain any control. It doesn't take long for me to start shaking, whether isn't from anger or fear, I can't tell. Someone places their hand in my shoulder but I barely notice.

"He'll be fine, Katniss." Annie says and it sounds too eerily similar to what Prim told me on Friday. Only then I didn't know who she was talking about.

"How can I believe that when I don't even know what's wrong with him?" I ask and surprise myself when my voice stays steady, unemotional. Everything seems completely lost on me.

"You just have to trust us." Finnick says as he runs a hand through his hair.

I glare at him. "Oh, yes, because you've always told the truth." I say sarcastically.

"It's not my truth to tell." He says with a shrug.

"He probably just doesn't want you to know." Johanna says with a smirk.

"Really, Jo? Don't you have any decency?" Annie says with exasperation.

"I'm just being realistic. They barely know each other. It took him forever to tell _us_ so why would he tell her?"

"Now's not the time to talk about this. Let's just get back to work." Finnick says. "We're lucky there's nobody here right now." he gestures around us and, sure enough, the gym is empty.

At that, I walk away from the group and head to supply closet. I don't think I could deal with any of them for much longer. All coherent thought seems to evade me right now. Almost like a well-practiced move, I take out the broom and start to sweep the entire room. The bristles stick out in odd directions and in one spot they're missing completely, making it a hassle to get a clean sweep. A large pile of dirt and dust begins to gather with each stroke I take. My eyes stayed trained on the floor, on every crevasse and scratch that covers it. I begin to count the number of strokes I make. Back and forth, back and forth. It plays like a mantra in my head.

It's rhythmic and slow and the motions of bringing it back and forth seem to calm me somewhat. Almost too much because, before I can stop them, a thousand different scenarios are flying through my head as I try piece everything together. Every word Johanna and Annie said is being recalled at an alarming pace and I have to stop what I'm doing while I keep myself steady. Nothing I think of seems right. It all consist of Peeta running out of the arena because of the death of a family member or he's late for some job that I don't know about. He could have a stalker for all I know!

But no matter how many times I try to fit those situations into what I've seen happen, it doesn't make any sense. Unless Peeta's family members are dropping like flies, I highly doubt that's what's going on. Annie said this happens sometimes, so I don't see that being a possibility. And if it was just a job he had, then why would everyone be keeping that a secret? And let's face it. The likelihood of a stalker is slim to none, although not impossible. But once again, I highly doubt that. There are just too many other things that don't fit...

_No._ I can't think like this. It doesn't matter what's going on with Peeta. It's none of my business and I shouldn't care anyway. I came here to get a job and get paid not to spend my whole time trying to figure out people I barely know. I have an obligation to take care of my family, provide them with shelter over their heads and food in their stomachs and this boy is just getting in the way.

I groan when the feeling in my stomach doesn't go away. When my head is still pounding and my heart is still racing. I've already made my way around the room and back to the supply closet. I stare at the pile of dust. It's grown at least four times its size from when I started.

The broom clatters against the wall of the closet as I toss it inside with more force than necessary because I'm tired of this. I'm tired of this feeling in my stomach and that ridiculous feeling of need that I have to see his face again and make sure that he's okay. I have to stop thinking like that! It isn't an option. It's completely pointless and will do absolutely no good. Prim was right when she said the things that are important to me are hunting and working. Nothing else.

I slump down onto one of the weight benches, my head in my hands. The events from today have left me exhausted. I glance at the clock to find that closing time is in three hours. A feeling of dread and relief floods through me at the same time. My head falls back into my hands. With all of my might, I concentrate on keeping any thoughts that have to do with a certain blue eyed fighter out of my head. Even thoughts of Prim are dangerous at this moment.

I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. As I look up I see Finnick watching me with concern. His green eyes bore into mine, almost like he's searching for something. But I don't give him much time to because I turn away, my eyes on the floor. I don't want to talk to anyone right now, least of all him.

"They should be back soon." he says, his voice quite to match the silence around us. I want so badly to ask how he knows that but I don't.

"Do you think Haymitch will let me bring Prim to work tomorrow?" I ask instead.

I can hear Finnick sigh. "I don't think he'll mind. He'll probably be too drunk to notice anyway."

All I can do is nod my head. After a few minutes of silence, I hear heavy footsteps walking away. Finally, I look up to see Finnick already a few feet ahead. With one last sigh, I push myself up and force myself to continue cleaning, making sure to keep my thoughts strictly platonic.

The hours drag and drag. Each second that ticks on the clock seems like a lifetime. By the second hour, any and every sound is grating on my nerves. I busy myself with work as much as possible. Scrubbing the floors until they shine, dusting any surface I can reach. I'm currently sweeping the entrance for the second time tonight. No matter how many times I try to stop myself, I can't help glancing out the dirt curved windows every few minutes. But every time, I'm just disappointed.

It doesn't help that whenever I look around all I see is Annie biting her nails in worry while Finnick sits around the boxing ring, his eyebrows scrunched together like he's trying to solve some complex math problem. Johanna paces back and forth as she 'cleans' the equipment. The constant scowl on her face can't hide her concern as much as I'm sure she'd like it to. It's definitely not fooling Annie who keeps giving her sympathetic looks.

"There's going to be no floor left if you keep sweeping it like that."

I look up to see Finnick watching me with a small smirk. I scowl at him and continue sweeping in front of the door. With one more glance, I look out the window. All I see is rain pouring down, drops sliding along the glass. The faint glow of the street lights outside cast small shadows along the road. Other than the very occasional car, there's nothing out there. I look back at Finnick to see him staring outside as well. He notices me watching him and gives me a sad smile before walking back to the boxing ring without another word.

After a few minutes a thousand different emotions seem to run through me and my head snaps up when I hear Annie exclaim, "They're here!"

* * *

**So this chapter was the hardest thing I have had to write so far which is kind of strange because it is probably the most broing chapter I have wrote as well.** **Sorry about that. But I had to approuch Katniss' emotions in a very delicate way because she is such a complicated character to write. It was a necessary step that had to be taken, though. **

**And Im SO sorry there is no Peeta here. But don't worry. The next chapter is going to be _full_ of him. Almost too much...well kinda. ;)**

**Well, I hope you liked it. I'm extremely nervous about this chapter so let me know if you liked it or not. **


	7. Chapter 7

**An***** So, here's chapter 7! It's a little shorter than the others but thats just because this scene ended up being _a lot_ longer than I thought it would.**

**Oh, and I GOT OVER A HUNDRED REVIEWS! You guys are so absolutely _awesome_! My 100th reviewer was a guest under the name of Anon so thank you. :) You guys are just so stinkin' amazing. I have no words. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. **

* * *

Chapter 7

My head snaps up, my eyes squinting against the black as I try to spot them. The windows are blurred as the rain pounds against them, dirt mingling with the water. I search under the street lights in the hopes of seeing their shadows underneath. I find nothing, the orange glows bright against the dark. My eyes scan the area quickly and I almost groan as everything seems the same as when I had just looked at a minute ago.

And then I see something. Two black silhouettes emerging from the alley. As they get closer, quickly stepping under the lights, I can make out their features. A sigh escapes my lips in relief as Haymitch and Peeta rush across the street, completely soaked in rain. I stand frozen as I watch, my eyes never leaving Peeta as I search him for any harm. I search his face but it's too dark for me to see anything just yet.

Water from the road splashes around them with each step, dirt and water coating their jeans. They move with haste, quickly darting across the road. In no time, the door flies open, creaking loudly then banging against the wall from the force. If it had been opened any faster I'm sure the glass would have shattered. Haymitch slams it shut with a grunt as he tries to catch his breath.

Under the dim light of the gym, I can finally see them clearly. My eyes haven't left Peeta since they entered or the cut against his cheek. It looks old, at least a few days, as the blood has already dried. I try to catch his eyes, just a glimpse but he has them squeezed shut, almost like he's afraid to open them. His hair is dripping, his curls matted and dark. I can feel my heart beating erratically in my chest but I ignore it, to focused on Peeta.

It isn't until I hear the exclaims of concern that I notice Annie, Finnick and Johanna had joined me at the window. In one swift motion they all surround them, questions escape in their mouths quicker than I can keep up with. They help Haymitch and Peeta peel of their coats, tossing them to the floor while I stand back, unsure of what to do.

"Give him space!" Haymitch grunts. He pushes past everyone as he guides Peeta over to a weight bench. He sits him down slowly, carefully. Everyone backs off, standing a few feet away as they watch. Annie rings her hands together in worry. As Finnick sees, he puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her against his side as Johanna hangs back, her arms crossed over her chest.

Haymitch kneels down in front of Peeta who's got his hands covering his face. Haymitch grabs his wrists and tugs on them until they finally drop to his lap, but his eyes remain shut. "Open your eyes, boy." Haymitch says. Peeta gives a slight shake of his head, his hands reaching back up but before yet can resume their spot, Haymitch catches them.

I watch silently as Haymitch tries to persuade Peeta to open his eyes. My brow furrows in confusion as I try to understand what's going on. I want so badly to ask what's wrong with him, why he won't speak or barely acknowledges anyone, but I have the feeling that even if I could find my voice to ask, no one would answer. My eyes widen as I realize I've slowly been inching forward. I stop quickly, planting my feet firmly on the floor.

"Peeta, just open your eyes." Haymitch repeats. His grey eyes stare at him with such intensity that I'm surprised Peeta doesn't sense it. He scratches his beard in impatience, or maybe worry. The hand he has placed on his shoulder shakes him slightly and when nothing happens he almost growls. "Open your eyes!"

I find myself silently praying he complies. Does something, anything. That he just shows us some sign that he's even paying attention. My heart continues to beat rapidly, causing my ears to pound. I want so much to just run and hide. To flee. But my feet are glued to the floor as I'm rendered motionless, my eyes never leaving Peeta.

From the corner of my eye I see a flash of brown hair whipping around as Annie turns and darts towards the locker rooms. Almost like I'm watching from a different perspective, a different person, I can see a quick flurry of movements as Annie returns, a stack of old, white towels piled in her arms. It all seems so strange, like I'm barely experiencing anything, like I'm just watching the screen as a movie plays.

Annie tosses a towel at Haymitch, unintentionally hitting him in the side of the head. His dark hair gets shoved to the side from the impact and he pushes it past impatiently. He turns to give her a quick glare, his eyes perching and sharp, clearly annoyed and frustrated with everything. She barely notices. Too caught up in slowly, almost cautiously, placing the other towel next to Peeta before darting back to Finnick's side.

Haymitch's voice, deep and rough from what I assume is concern, starlets me as he starts throwing out instructions. "Annie, Johanna." he says. They both approach him, listening intently. "Go upstairs and get him something warm to drink. He needs to warm up. And be quick."

They both nod, turning rapidly on their heels. One they're halfway to the stairs, Annie hesitates, turning back to Haymitch. She eyes him, her green eyes wary. "Haymitch, I don't think alcohol would be-"

His growl of frustration cuts her off. "I have other things up there. Now go!" He barks. And just like that, Annie and Johanna fly up the stairs as quickly as possible.

My eyes dart back to Peeta to find him still covering his face with his hands. He rocks back and forth slightly and I could swear I hear him mumbling under his breath. Haymitch sighs as he grabs the other towel and moves to wipe of the rain from Peeta's forehead. As soon as the towel touches him, he recoils as if it were on fire. This time it's Haymitch that I hear muttering to himself.

"It's bad this time." Finnick states, his brow furrowed as he watches them, his eyes filled with sorrow. Haymitch grunts in agreement as he tries to wipe Peeta off again. "Here, I'll do it. You still have to dry yourself off." Finnick suggests. And when Haymitch doesn't argue, he crouches down in front of Peeta, towel in hand. Peeta responds just as he did with Haymitch, backing away as far as he can, unwilling to be touched.

The action reminds me of Prim after a particularly bad nightmare. As she just begins to wake, her mind still roaming with images of whatever terror it was, her body coated in sweat, any move I made to touch her she thrashes against. It took me forever to figure out how to deal with it but when I did it didn't take long for her to calm enough to fall back asleep. If even if was only for a few hours before she woke again.

A muffled scream echoes through the room, causing all my thoughts to dissipate. I can feel the blood leave my cheeks, my body instantly freezing at the sound. I feel as if it's pierced my bones. My whole body feels as if it's shaking. I've heard that scream before. Many times. It's a scream filled with agony and terror. I recognize it. I hear it in the dark as images of my father dying again and again cloud my eyes. I hear it every night.

But this time it's not heard in the dark of night, muffled by a pillow. It's here in the gym, coming from a blonde haired boy that's screaming into his hands as his body shakes. My throat tightens, my knees tremble as I watch, completely shocked as I realize that Peeta, kind and sweet Peeta, is haunted by something as horrible as Prim and I. And I don't know what it is or who it is. All I know is that I want it to stop. Right now.

Finnick and Haymitch watch with wide eyes, completely unprepared by his sudden outburst. They stare and stare, frozen and unsure. I want to scream at them, tell them to do something. To stop staring and help him. He obviously needs it so why won't they do anything? They just continue to watch, helpless and lost. It isn't until I speak, my voice rough, when they finally look away.

"Let me help him." I say sternly, glaring at both of them.

Haymitch glares right back. "Listen sweetheart, it's great you want to help but this-"

"You either let me help him or you watch as he gets hypothermia." I spit at him.

His steel eyes watch me, appraising me. My eyes stay locked on his as I try to show him I'm not messing around. Peeta's muffled screams can still be heard though not as loud. And just about the time that I really could care less if Haymitch gives me permission to help him or not and I'm about to shove him to the side, he gives me a small nod. Without wasting any time, I'm kneeling in front of Peeta like Finnick was earlier.

For a moment I just watch him. Hands covering his face. His body trembling as he gently rocks back and forth. The dim light casts a soft glow around him, turning his blonde hair a deep golden color. His screams have lessened, an occasion moan in its place. At the moment, I don't dare touch him, in fear of setting him off again. I whisper his name but he doesn't acknowledge it. So I do what I do with Prim. I start to hum.

It's no song in particular. Its starts low, slowly growing louder but not by much. He stops moaning, as if he's listening. I'm just praying it works like it does for Prim. That maybe it will bring him to actually speak or open his eyes. If that's all it did, I wouldn't mind. If I could just see that bright blue, see that there still as beautiful as I remember than I wouldn't mind one bit.

As I continue to hum, he slowly stops shaking but his hands never leave his face. Taking a risk, I slowly reach out to brush his hair away. He flinches slightly as my fingertips brush his forehead. But as I brush a stray curl back, he relaxes slightly, leaning into the touch. I continue to hum as my hand slides down to cup his cheek, the one opposite of the cut. Then I gently grasp one of his hands in mine, giving it a small tug.

It takes time. After a few more tugs, a few more notes to hum, he slowly removes one hand. His eyes stay closed tight. I whisper his name again and his other hand drops. I take it in my empty hand, the one that's not back to resting on his cheek, and give it a slight squeeze. When his eyes still don't open, I start humming again. It's slow and soothing and I watch him closely, hoping it works.

Just as the made up song I've been humming starts to come to an end, he does the thing I've been waiting for. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, that incredible blue immediately locked on me. I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my thumb running against his cheek. He never looks away from me and even though normally I would start feeling uncomfortable, I stare right back.

His eyes show his pain, slightly clouded over as he watches. I don't make any move to say anything because I know that when he's ready he will. And as I see the tears gathering in his eyes, ready to spill over at any second, instincts take over and I automatically pull him down. He lands on a heap on the floor, halfway on my lap as he rests his forehead against my shoulder, his arms locking tightly around my waist.

The hand that was resting on his cheek moves to bury in his wet hair as I hold him closer. A mingle of tears and rain water begins to soak my shirt but I don't pay much attention. I whisper soothing words in his ear, just like I do for Prim. I wait for him to cry it out, gently rocking him back and forth as I start to hum again. His arms tighten around me and I hold him tighter.

Eventually his tears stop, his body stops shaking and he just rests against me, seemingly exhausted. I continue to hum for him as I stroke his hair. He even gets so quite that I wonder if he fell asleep. But he didn't. He slowly pulls away, his eyes red from crying. He looks like he could pass out at any second so I jump on the opportunity to get him dry.

I grab the towel from the bench, the rough fabric scratchy in my hand. I scowl, thinking of how there is never anything nice in this place. Being careful not to frighten him, I slowly bring the towel up to Peeta's face. I pat it against his forehead, wiping away the rain on his skin, then carefully move it down to wipe his neck, his arms. He doesn't move, just silently watches me, his eyes beginning to droop as he fights to stay awake. Taking extra caution when I reach back to his face, I gently wipe around the cut. He winces as I touch a tender spot but does nothing more.

The towel grows heavy as more and more water is soaked up. By the time I'm finished drying his hair, it's practically dripping water, unable to hold anymore. It's almost like a cloud heavy with rain, ready to dump water all over the place. I toss it to the side and it loudly smacks against the floor. I gently cup his face in my hands, lightly moving his head up to look at me. He looks back with heavy eye lids, his blue eyes staring back at me.

I wait for him to start crying again, or scream, just silently watching him. But it doesn't happen. My eyes fall to his cheek again, on the red cut that almost expands the whole length. I can't help it when my mind starts putting objects, a knife, maybe a sharp stick, to try and match it to the ragged area. It definitely wasn't from a fight, I know that much. His last fight was on Friday and Marvel barely got a punch on him. It wasn't from a hand. It had to have been something sharp.

For some reason, I get the feeling that it didn't happen on accident. And I can only assume that it has something to do with how he's acting. Any time Haymitch of Finnick tried to touch him, he flinch and leaned away.

I've only seen behavior like that once. When my mother was still working when we lived in North Carolina as a nurse. A young lady came to our house for a home visit. Her arms and face were covered in bruises and anytime my mother tried to examine them, she almost started crying. It was like she was afraid my mother was going to hit her. It wasn't until later that we found out she had an abusive husband. I had never felt so much anger towards that woman more than I did at that moment. Because why didn't she fight back?

An awkward cough from behind me, curs my train of thought off. I can feel my cheeks heat up both in anger at whoever caused the cut on Peeta and embarrassment for staring at it for so long. But thankfully, when I look up to his eyes, he doesn't seem to mind. Or maybe he's just too far gone to even notice. I look behind me and am startled when I see everyone staring at us closely, in shock and confusion. It must have been Haymitch who coughed, his smirk giving him away. I glare at him. It doesn't take long to spot Annie, her eyes fixated on us, a steaming mug of some drink in her hand.

I wave her over, and she hurries across the room, handing me the mug. The mug is smooth, the white porcelain free of scratches. It seems strange that Haymitch would own something that was in this great of a condition. It warms my fingers, steam slowly drifting out from the rich brown inside. It smells like hot chocolate.

Being careful not to spill, I hold it out to Peeta. When he doesn't take it, I take one of his hands and wrap it around the mug. He blinks, staring at the drink like he has no idea what to do. His eyes close like he's about to fall asleep but I shake his arm gently and his eyes pop open again. With a sigh, I tilt the mug up towards his mouth. This time he seems to understand, taking a big gulp of the drink before lowering it back down. I almost roll my eyes when I see his eyes closing again.

Haymitch and Finnick have moved closer, silently watching. Annie and Johanna stay back a few feet, quietly discussing something I can't hear. I look up at Finnick. "Are the men's showers clean?" I ask him.

He gives me a guilty smile. "Not really."

"He can use mine." Haymitch says. "He's going to spend the night with me anyway." I raise an eyebrow at him. "I'm not letting him go back there after what I saw." he grunts, his eyes growing hard.

My brow furrows. "His house? What did you see?"  
"That witch of a mother threw him outside in the rain aft

er gripping his wrists so hard he's got bruises!"

My eyes automatically dart to his wrist. Blue and purple bruises wrap all the way around and my eyes widen. How had I not seen them before? My fingers ghost over them as I turn his wrist over to find the same thing. I look at him, his eyes closed, probably asleep. I shift my position so he can rest his head against my shoulder easier. And from the sound of his deep sigh, I realize how close he is to completely passing out.

I look back at the bruises and suddenly I want to shake him awake again and demand him why he let his mother hit him. He definitely has enough strength to stop her. My cheeks heat in anger and I have to take a deep breath to keep myself calm. To keep myself from storming out of the gym, finding his mother and giving her a piece of her own medicine.

My head spins from everything Haymitch just said. Everything I heard Annie and Johanna whisper earlier tonight. Finnick's words from just a while ago. _It's bad this time_. I think back to all the other times Peeta showed up with bruises on him. At the Laundromat, the arena. He blamed it on wrestling with his brothers. I knew he had been lying then but I had never thought it would have been his mother.

And everyone knew but me. And no one tried to stop it. It was just _something that happens_. How can they call each other friends if they don't even care enough to do something? They could have tried. They could have taken him away from there before he was on the edge of a mental break down! I wonder of they've even talked to him about it. Or maybe they just left him alone to deal with this by himself. That should never be the case though; he should never have to go through it alone. At all.

I look back at Haymitch and Finnick. "Why didn't you do anything?" I hiss at them. Finnick drops his head, unable to meet my eyes. He should feel guilty.

"What were we supposed to do, Sweetheart?" Haymitch says with narrowed eyes, his voice harsh. "Just kidnap him from his home? Take him away from his family?"

"You shouldn't have sat around while he was being beaten!" I yell.

"You think we actually liked watching him coming here every day with some new injury? We tried to talk to him, to help him, but he refused."

"Why?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"Because he loves that woman too much. He says he has to watch out for her!" Haymitch shouts. His face is red in anger as he steps closer.

"How could he love her when she hits him?"

His face grows softer slightly but he still clenches his jaw as if what he's about to say is both a blessing and a curse. "Because that's just the kind of person he is. He cares about people that don't deserve it."

I look down at him, where his head is resting on my shoulder as he sleeps. Even after everything that has happened tonight, he still looks as kind as ever. As if there's nothing bad or rotten on this planet. His blonde lashes flutter slightly as his arms around my waist tighten. I can't see why anyone would treat him that way. He is so absolutely good that I find it strange that someone would actually want to hurt him.

"I think he's the only good left in this world." Haymitch grumbles. "Anyone could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve his kindness."

Looking at him now, and after everything I've seen, I know there is truth in Haymitch's words. Peeta is one of the only people that I have met that has an ability to see good in everyone. He doesn't have to force himself to be nice to people like I do. I haven't known him that long but it doesn't take a genius to see it. The only other person I could think of who is like that is Prim. Both her and Peeta don't deserved to live in an area like this, they don't deserve to live a terrible life like they do. They don't deserve to live in a world where everyone and everything is corrupt. They deserve so, _so_ much better.

* * *

**Like I said, this chapter is shorter and I'm sorry for that. I had originally planned for a whole other day to be included but if I had done that than this chapter would have been the size of two chapters or more. And that would just be _way_ too long.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think. I'm kinda nervous (it seems like I always am when I post a chapter) to see if you guys like it or not. Katniss isn't so "mean" in this one... if that makes sense. But she can't always be mean.**

**Also, if any of you happen to be wondering if thats all Peeta's little "secret' is...well it's not. Trust me when I tell you that there's still a lot more to it. These upcoming chapters are going to be crazy. NO LIE. **

**I'm so excited! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN* Wow! I am so sorry for the super long wait! I've been extremely bus now that school has started up and unfortunitely that means that I barely get to write. I seriously went a whole week were I only got to write two paragraphs. I was kind of annyoing. **

**Anyway, this chapter was a rather tricky one to write. The only thing I'm going to say is that it's kind of a bonding moment between Katniss and Peeta. Those are always nice, right? **

**The chapter is on the larger side which is my lame way of apologizing. It's great, huh? I'm super thoughtful like that. ;) **

**And as always, you guys are so super duper fantastic! Thank you all so much for your reviews, alerts and follows. It really just blows my mind. :D You guys are incredible!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. **

* * *

Chapter 8

Gravel crunches beneath our shoes as we walk. It's a hassle trying to avoid all of the puddles that litter the alley. From the amount of rain we received last night, I'm surprised the whole area hasn't washed out. Prim is practically hopping her way down the abandoned road, constantly jumping over mud puddles. Her blonde hair is tied into a ponytail that flops against her back with each hop.

Her eyes grow wide as she hears something rustle behind one of the dumpsters. She almost stops in place, her eyes trained of the trash falling out of the rusted green garbage dispenser. I don't pay in much mind. It's probably just that stupid cat that hangs around here. I swear that thing has rabies. Prim quickly runs back to my side once the noise halts.

"Are you sure I can come with you to work?" She asks me nervously. Her eyes dart around the dark alley, sweeping the expanses of the towering buildings before returning to the ground to watch her step. Her grip on my hand tightens as she hears the rustling again.

I sigh. "I'm sure, Prim. I already told you that."

"I know. I just don't want to bug anyone."

"You won't. I'm sure Annie and Finnick will probably forget their work just so they can play with you. Johanna on the other hand, she might not pay any attention to you. But it's nothing personal. She's like that with everyone. And Haymitch probably won't even notice you're there." I tell her.

Prim nods slowly as she absorbs my words and I almost let out a sigh of relief when she doesn't ask any more questions. When I told her this morning that she was going with me, she automatically started firing questions at me. She asked the same ones more than once. I've spent most of my morning, besides getting ready, answering her questions. There's still one question that I know she's dying to ask but I seriously hope, with all of my being, that she will not ask it.

She tugs on her hair nervously. "What about Peeta?" And there it is.

I slowly come to a stop, my boots sinking into the mud. Prim follows my lead and turns to face me better. "You never told me what happened last night." she says quietly. _And I don't plan on it._

"Nothing happened." I say curtly.

"Katniss, I may be thirteen, but I'm not an idiot. When you finally got home last night, an hour late no less, you looked like you had been hit by a freight train."  
"Gee, thanks, Prim." I say as I roll my eyes.

"The point is, I know something happened last night and I know that it has to do with Peeta." she says, her arms folded across her chest. She glares at me, her blue eyes piercing. Before I can even question her on how she know that, she cuts me off. "So don't lie." she warns me.

There's absolutely no way I'm telling Prim about Peeta being beaten. I wasn't even supposed to know. If it hadn't been for Haymitch's big mouth, I still wouldn't have any idea on what's going on. "I can't tell you." I tell her.

Her eyes narrow again. "You can or you won't?"

I sigh in frustration. "Prim, I _can't_. I wish I could tell you but it's not something that I can just go blurting out to everyone."

We stare at each other for a moment, both waiting for the other to say something. The alley seems like all life has been sucked out of it. Not a sound can be heard. The breeze gently brushes past, tickling my skin with its cool touch. I can feel goose bumps forming, and I run hand hands against my arms to warm the up.

The silence of finally broken when Prim speaks, her voice low in a whisper. "Fine, but just answer me one question."

I bite my lip to keep myself from groaning. "What?"

She opens her mouth to ask but quickly shuts it. After a second of hesitation she asks, "Will Peeta be ok?" She sounds deflated, her voice almost exasperated as she speaks.

I can tell that wasn't the question she wanted to ask but I don't push the subject. Instead, I focus on trying to answer the question she did ask. And in the end, after a while of thought, I give the best answer I can think of; "I really don't know." And it's true. I have absolutely no idea how he's going to be once we get there. For all I know, he could be his normal self or he could be rocking back and forth as he screams his head off.

Prim nods, slowly walking ahead of me, dodging puddles as she goes. Her rain boots have a layer of mud caked around them, the yellow slowly turning brown. She jumps into a puddle, water splashing up around her. I watch as the water ripples slowly. "Prim, don't get yourself more dirty than you already are." I tell her. She turns back and gives me a sheepish grin before stepping out I the puddle.

Something cool hits my cheek and I look up. The sky is grey and quite. It barely looks like it's moving, a stagnant air that refuses to budge. Crisp air crawls against my skin, a gentle whisper of a breeze. Another cool feeling on my cheek. It doesn't take me long to realize that it's starting to sprinkle. I squint against the sky and sure enough, the tiny drops of water begin to descend at a more rapid rate.

"Katniss!" Prim yells. I whip around quickly, my eyebrows raised as I wait for her to continue. She points at something by the dumpster, her smile wide. "Look at that kitten!"

Just as she finishes her sentence, that ugly orange tabby saunters out from behind the dumpster. Its tail sticks up in the air, its round, plump belly poking out. His eyes, the color of rotting squash, seem to glare at me as it sees me, its nose twitching. He looks just as beat up as he did the first time I saw him, If not more. When Prim makes a small squeal of delight, its half missing ear turns in her direction before his whole body follows.

"Oh my goodness. He's so cute." Prim says, her blue eyes admiring. I sigh, amazed that she can find that _thing_ cute. It has to be the most hideous cat I've ever laid eyes on. "His color is like the Buttercup flowers." she says.

"More like the decaying food he eats." I mumble under my breath.

"Be nice to him, Katniss. He looks like he's gone through a lot."

When Prim crouches to his level, he happily jogs over to her. "Don't you dare touch that cat, Prim." I warn, my voice stern.

"But he looks so sweet." she pleads.

"He could have rabies or some kind of other disease. I don't want you touching it."

She sighs. "Fine." The mongrel circles around her, his tail flicking back and forth. I swear it's smirking at me. "You're so cute." Prim tells him. "I'm going to call you Buttercup."

I roll my eyes. "Let's go, Prim. I'm going to be late." I say.

She smiles at the cat as she stands. The cat paws at a pebble, flicking it into a puddle before lazily plopping down into the mud. Prim giggles as she sees his orange coat turning brown. I have to tug on her hand to get her to start walking again. As we continue I walk, she constantly casts quick glances over her shoulder to see if it's still there.

The rain is coming down harder now. Prim pulls up the hood on her coat as I lift my bag over my head to shield myself from the rain. The wet leather feels slippery in my fingers and I have to grip it tighter to hold it in place. Me and Prim start to jog, out shoes flinging up mud and water all around us.

Just as the gym comes into view, Prim slows to a stop. Her eyes scan the building, taking in the old department store. The bricks are chipped, the sign hanging crooked as rust collects around the edges. As the rain falls, it blurs the image, almost distorting it. "It looks scary. Like its haunted." she whispers. I laugh, remembering how that was the same thing I thought when I saw it for the first time.

"Come on." I say, pulling her forward again.

Soon, I'm throwing the door to the gym open, me and prim hurrying inside. Annie looks up from behind the front desk, startled from the sound of the door banging against the wall. She pushes her bangs out of her face and as soon as her eyes land on Prim, she smiles widely. The gym is fairly empty today, only a few people occupying the treadmills on the back wall. I can hear Finnick with someone in the boxing ring. I try to lean over so I can see who it is, but a frown forms on my face when I realize I can't see.

Annie walks over to us, her green eyes bright as she pulls Prim into a surprise hug. "Prim! It's so nice to see you again!" Annie gushes. I almost tune them out, my eyes scanning the room as if automatically.

"You too." Prim answer as she beams at Annie.

"I'm glad Katniss bought you! I never get another girl I can talk to here."

This grabs my attention. "Really, Annie?" I ask.

"Well it's not like you or Johanna would want to talk about clothes and shopping and boys." she says in defense. She turns to Prim again. "You like shopping, right?"

"Um... I haven't been that often." she answers with a blush.

I can feel myself tense at her words. Nobody here knows how bad our living conditions are or how our mother is basically nonexistent. And I plan on keeping it that way. It's none of their business. If they find out, they'll want to help and we don't need their help. We're doing fine as we are.

Thankfully, Annie doesn't seem fazed or shocked by her answer. "What about boys?" she asks.

Prim blushes bright red and as much as I disapprove of her dating at such a young age, her reaction is priceless. "Well I- I don't really-" she stutters.  
"Oh come on, Prim." I say teasingly. "What about a certain blonde haired boxer that you couldn't seem to take your eyes off of?" I say with a nudge to her shoulder. Her mouth drops open in shock, her checks even redder.

"You have a crush on Peeta?" Annie nearly shouts.

Prim's eyes grow even wider as they dart across the room to make sure no one heard. She shakes her head fervently. "No, I- I really don't-" she says but gets cut off by Annie.

"It's okay, Prim. You don't have to be embarrassed. I think it's sweet."

"No, I really don't have a crush on him. I just think he's cute." she blurts out. Her head drops as she realizes what she just said.  
Annie chuckles. "Well that's for sure." she says. My head snaps to her direction, my brow furrowed. "He is pretty handsome. It would be hard not to think he's cute." she says.

I can feel my fists clench at my side, an odd anger seeming to boil up in my stomach that only confuses me. Because for some reason, I feel like I could seriously yell at Annie right now.

Prim blushes again but gives a slight nod of her head, unable to look at either of us.

"And he's extremely sweet and kind." Annie points out. "And that smile!" she gushes as my mouth drops open. What is with her today? I'm seriously beginning to wonder if it's not Finnick that she likes.

Prim starts to giggle now. "He does have a nice smile." she says with a blush.

"Oh, I know. It's the most adorable thing ever." Annie says.

This conversation is really getting annoying. I could honestly care less about what Annie and Prim think about Peeta. Just about the time that I've decided I don't want to listen to them anymore, Annie's words catch me of guard.

"But don't worry, Prim. It's really not that bad." Annie says. "I've liked boys who were taken before. You learn to move on."

It takes me a moment for the words to sink in, but when they do, my eyebrows shoot up. "Taken?" I ask. She has to be joking, right? I've never heard Peeta mention having a girlfriend. I realize that it's probably none of business to know about Peeta's private life but I can't help the next question that comes out. "Peeta has a girlfriend?"

Prim and Annie stare at me oddly. Slowly, a knowing look forms on Prim's face that soon turns into a smirk as she crosses her arms against her chest. "Why do you ask?" Prim asks mischievously.

"I never heard him say anything. That's all." I explain.

"Are you sure that's all?" she asks as she bites her lip, a giggle threatening to escape. My eyes grow wide at the implications. Annie snorts at my reaction, her hand quickly flying up to cover her mouth. "Are you jealous, Katniss?" Prim asks with a smile.

I open my mouth but no words come out. Of course I'm not jealous. I barely know Peeta. He can date whoever he wants. Prim's smirk grows as she sees me searching for something I say. Finally, my voice decides to work with me. "I don't even know him." I say quietly.

"You know him a lot more than most people." Annie mumbles, her eyes glancing at the floor. I know she's referring to last night and everything that accompanied it. Now I can't help but wonder how he's doing. When I left, he was still sleeping. Haymitch and Finnick had carried him up to Haymitch's room and as soon as they came back down and told me he was still sleeping, I bolted. Once again, I find my eyes searching the room. I scowl when I realize it's still the same as when I had entered.

My attention is snapped back to Prim as she continues speaking. "Oh, come on, Katniss." she says, repeating the same words I said to her earlier.  
"I barely know him." I mumble.

"Well, if it eases your mind any, he's not technically taken. But he might as well be. He's already pretty much in love with the girl." Annie says.

_No, Annie. That did not ease my mind._

"What girl?" Prim asks.

"I'm almost positive you know her. She was at the fight on Friday." She winks at Prim who smiles widely at her, her blue eyes lit up.  
"Oh, yeah! I think I know who you're talking about. I had my suspicions but I guess that just confirmed it." Prim says with a giggle.  
I think back to the fight and if I saw any girl around Peeta. I can't think of a single

instance. It could have been one of the hundreds of girls in the stadium that were cheering him on. Whoever she is, she is probably and idiot.

"Don't be jealous, Katniss." Annie says kindly.

"I'm not." I say sharply.

"Really? Because you look kind of ticked off right now."

"Yep." Prim says. "It's okay, Kat. Jealousy is normal."

"I already told you guys. I barely know Peeta."

"That's not denying that you don't like him, though." she points out.

With the perfect timing that he always has, Finnick shows up at Annie's side, throwing his arm around her shoulders and successfully getting me out of commenting on that statement. His green eyes watch us all, obviously noting how Annie and Prim are smiling widely at me as I avoid their gaze. I stare at the lines in the wood instead, the deeper shades of brown and tan as they mix in odd patterns.

"Hey, Prim." Finnick says in a slightly awkward tone.

"Hi, Finnick."

With no one offering up any words to ease the tension that somehow built up to an enormous rate in the past minute, Annie decides to speak first. "So Katniss, since I'm going to give Prim a tour and Finnick has to get back to the boxing ring to help Thresh, why don't you go upstairs and check on Peeta?" she asks.

"Oh, that would be great!" Finnick says with a little too much enthusiasm. I glare at him but he just smiles, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Isn't Haymitch up there with him?" I ask.

"Nope. He's passed out in his office." Finnick answers. "Had a little too much to drink. The whole floor in there is covered in empty beer bottles."

Prim's nose wrinkles at that. "That's terrible. His liver isn't going to last much longer if he keeps doing that." she states.

"No it is not, wise one." Finnick says as he pats her head fondly, her blonde hair mussing with each pat. He turns to me. "You better go. I think he caught a cold from last night." he says solemnly.

A frown forms on my face at that. I nod and look back to Prim. She's biting her lip, obviously wanting to ask about what happened last night. I know she's been dying to know but that's not something I'm going to tell her. She must see that on my face, for she frowns slightly, her eyes on the ground.

"You're gonna be okay with Annie, right?" I ask her.

With her nod of conformation, I leave the group and head for the stairs. As I pass the boxing ring, Thresh waves at me  
from his spot in the corner, a towel wrapped around his neck. I give a small wave back at him. Just as my foot hits the first step, Finnick's voice stops me. He's still standing with Annie and Prim by the door but he's definitely making no effort to keep quite.

"I didn't think she would agree that easily. She didn't even argue." he says. "I thought I was going to have to wrestle her up there."

"And how would you have done that, Finnick?" Annie asks in exasperation.

"Rope."

"You know I can hear you, right?" I shout to them.

Finnick's head snaps to my direction, his eyes landing on mine. He obviously thought I was up the stairs already. "Hey! Stop eavesdropping! That's bad manners!" He shouts at me, tossing his hands up.

"It's bad manners to talk about me behind my back!"

"I wouldn't have had to if you had been up the stairs and doing what we told you!"

"You know this isn't part of my job, right?" I ask.

"Exactly. You know just as well as I do that you want to see how Peeta's doing. We gave you an excuse." He says with a knowing look.

"That's not true!" I yell back at him.

I hear Prim and Annie groaning. "Will you stop lying to yourself? There's nothing wrong with caring about someone!" he says. "Now go up there and see him!"  
I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off. "Just go!"

I glare at him before turning around and stomping up the stairs. The hallway is dark, the steps narrow. I have to focus on keeping my balance, distracting me from my anger at Finnick. I don't care about Peeta. In anyway. I _can't_. I don't care about what everyone else says about having friends and letting people in. They haven't seen what caring about people can do to them. They haven't met my mother. There's no way I'm going to risk that happening to me when I have Prim to worry about. The sooner people realize that, the better.

Taking a deep breath, I try concentrating on making it up the stairs without tripping. I grip the railing tightly, feeling the rough wood underneath my hand. With each step the floor creaks. The sound echoes down the length of the staircase. The dim lightly makes it a hassle to see clearly so I squint my eyes, watching my step carefully so I don't slip.

I make it up in one piece, stopping at the top. The stairs open up into a large room that appears to be the living room. The lights are turned off, the shades pulled tight. Garbage litters the floor, mostly beer bottles. My nose wrinkles at the smell. How could Haymitch live in a place that's so disgusting?

I scan the area quickly, trying to think of where Peeta might be. To the left is another hallway that most likely contains the bedrooms. Hesitantly, I step forward, dodging a pile of dirty clothes at me feet. A muffled groan coming from the shadows in the corner causes me to stop dead in my tracks. I turn towards it, half expecting to see Haymitch passed out on the ground in his own vomit.

As I approach it area of the sound I can start to make out shapes. I spot a lamp on a side table next to what I think is the couch and quickly move to turn it on. It clicks, a soft glow illuminating the room. It looks like the light bulb is about to go out. Of course it is. Haymitch probably hasn't even thought of doing anything to fix his living space. Even though it has to be crawling with bugs and disease.

I hear the moan again and almost jump when a rustling sound occurs right next to me. I step back, taking in the sight of the moving pile of blankets on the black leather couch. The blankets are thrown back, my eyes widening as a sleeping Peeta is exposed. His brow is furrowed, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. One of his arms is resting under his head, the other lazily slung across his stomach.

The light casts a soft glow across his face, his messy hair turning a sort of gold color. He whimpers slightly, his fist gripping the front of his black tee shirt. Once again he reminds me of Prim during a nightmare. That same look of torture on his face is the same one I see on Prim's. Her nightmares usually end up with her screaming herself awake. I can only hope that the outcome is not the same for Peeta.

With another whimper escaping his lips, I kneel down next to the couch. Tentatively, my hand reaches out to gently brush the curls away from his face. He relaxes slightly, sighing deeply as he leans into the touch. I leave my hand there as my eyes wonder across his face, to the small freckles on his cheek, the light pink color of his lips. As I feel Peeta begin to stir again, I blush; quickly advertise my eyes from his lips. He moans again, his grip tightening against his shirt.  
"Peeta." I whisper. He shifts slightly but doesn't wake. "Peeta, wake up." I whisper again.

His lashes flutter open slowly. The blue of his eyes are bright against the darkness as they focus on me. His brow furrows in confusion as he slowly wakes up. I realize my hand is still in his hair and I quickly take it away, awkwardly setting it in my lap. He pushes himself up, resting against his elbows.

"Katniss?" he asks wearily, as if he's unsure it's me. From the sound of his voice I can tell he has a cold, just like Finnick said.

"How are you feeling?" I blurt out.

He watches me a moment before answering. "Fine."

I frown. "No you're not. You're sick."

"It's just a cold." he says quietly, his eyes dropping to examine a tear in the couch. It's now that he seems mostly awake that I can see the pain still in his eyes. They look just like they did last night. I bite the inside of my cheek as I try to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry." his voice is so quiet and broken that I'm left speechless. "I'm sorry you had to see that last night."

He's actually apologizing for that. The thought makes me want to laugh and yell at him at the same time. "It wasn't your fault." I say quietly.

He shakes his head. "You shouldn't have had to deal with it."

"I didn't _deal_ with it. I wanted to help. I offered too."

When he doesn't say anything, I reach out and lift his chin, causing him to look at me. The sorrow in his eyes is unmistakable and my breath catches in my throat. "It wasn't your fault, Peeta."

"It was. I shouldn't have let myself break down like that."

"You couldn't help it." I say. "I know you didn't want me to find out about your mom and what she does to you but I'm not going to judge you because of that." I try to keep my voice stern, but it comes out much softer.

He looks at me and bites his lip. "I'm sorry."

I sigh. "Stop. I'm not going to except your apology. It's not necessary."

He eyes me hesitantly before nodding mutely. "How much did Haymitch tell you?" he asks wearily.

"That your mom beats you occasionally. That's really all I know."

He seems relieved. I can tell there's more to it than just his mother but I don't say anything. He lets out a shuddered breath, his eyes avoiding mine. I push against his shoulder, silently telling him to lie back down. "I'm going to get you some water." I tell him.

He opens his mouth to object. "Don't even try to tell me you can get it." I warn, "You look like you could barely stand even if you wanted to." I stand up and look around. "Where's the kitchen?"

"Down the hall."

I move around the mess in the living room, hopping over rotting trash and bottles. As I reach the hallway, my hand slides against the wall until I find the smooth surface of the light switch. Several doors can be seen along the walls. I peer inside each one until I find the kitchen.

The light flickers on, revealing the small area. An old stove sits in the middle, food and other unidentifiable substances caked on to the white surface and around the burners. The counters are covered in half eaten plates of food. I shake my head at the gigantic pile of dirty dishes in the sink. I can't help but wonder when the last time Haymitch did any cleaning was. From the looks of it, it can't have been anytime in the last few months.

I move around the room, opening and closing cabinets until I find the one containing the glasses. I pull one out, feeling the cold, smooth surface against my fingers. After moving the dishes out of the way I finally have enough room to fit the glass underneath the faucet. The light continues to flicker, reflecting of the silver in a small glow. I fill the glass with water and, after turning the light off, exit the kitchen and head back down the hall.

Peeta is still lying down, his eyes closed like he's asleep. I dodge the garbage again and kneel back down beside the couch, gently setting the water on the table with the lamp. I brush his hair back again as I whisper his name. Slowly, his eyes open again, a guilty smile forming on his lips. He sits up, the blanket falling to his lap. I grab his water and sit next to him.

"Here." I say as I hand his the glass.

"Thank you." he takes a few sips before lowering the glass, his head falling back to rest against the back of the couch. He sighs as his eyes drift closed. My brow furrows, my hand coming up to rest against his forehead only to find him burning up.

"You have a fever." I state as I pull my hand away.

"I'll be okay." he says quietly, his eyes opening to look at me.

I watch him closely for a moment. The clouded look is still in his eyes, the pain having never left. He's still shaken up about what happened last night. My eyes drop to the cut on his cheek. It looks better with all of the dried blood washed away but it still looks big. I look at his wrists. The bruises have gotten worse, turning a deep purple and blue that wraps all the way around.

I take the glass from him and set it on the table. I grab both of his hands and gently pull them towards me. The angry marks look even more pronounced up close. I can feel my anger growing at his mother. How could she do this to her own son? My fingers ghost over the marks slowly, tracing each one. I'm shocked when I feel the tears gathering in my eyes. Trying my hardest, I push them back, willing them not to fall. I'm being ridiculous anyway.

I keep my eyes on Peeta's wrists, hoping he won't see the tears. I silently curse myself for being so stupid. The bruises seem to scream at me know. I can't help but picture how broken he looked last night. How his eyes are still pained. And much to my dismay, as much as I tried, I couldn't stop one tear from sliding down my cheek. I angrily wipe it away. "Katniss?" Peeta asks in concern. I can't look at him though. He gently lifts my chin up, his eyes filled with worry as they watch me.

"Please don't cry." he says.

I shake my head. "I didn't mean too." I whisper. He watches me, his brow furrowed, and even with the worry, his eyes still look clouded over. "You're not okay, Peeta." I say.

His hand drops from my chin, his eyes staring at the blanket in his lap. Now it's his turn for the tears to gather. "I'm fine." he says.

"No you're not." I say. I cup his cheek in my hand, moving his face to look at me. "I'm so sorry this happens to you, Peeta." I whisper as one of his tears falls. I quickly brush it away with my thumb. He stares at me, and the amount of anguish and distress I see on his face causes my breath to catch.

"I don't ever remember her telling me she loves me." he says as his voice cracks. My throat tightens. Another tear falls down his cheek. "She avoids me as much as she can. She can't even look at me unless it's right before she hits me." he looks away as another tear falls, and I move my hand to grip his, giving it a slight squeeze.

"I can't ever remember a time where she's ever smiled at me. Spoken to me without yelling at me." he says. "When I was little, I always tried to make her happy. I used to draw her all kinds of pictures. From her favorite flowers to a sketch of her and dad." his eyes grow dark. "They always ended up in the fire."  
I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping the pain with distract me from the tears that are once again forming. "I gave up on trying to please her a long time ago." he whispers. "I've accepted that she doesn't love me." he takes a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut, forcing tears to roll down his cheek. "But that doesn't make it hurts any less." he sounds so broken. I bite harder on my cheek.

"Peeta..." I say, my voice catching as his name comes out as a plea.

"I'm sorry." he says, his eyes turning sorrowful.

"It's not your fault." I whisper. He shakes his head, unbelieving. "None of this is your fault. You can't keep thinking like that. Your mother is a horrible person, Peeta. You did nothing wrong."

His tears come more rapidly now. Looking at him now, at how broken and lost he looks, I can't help but be amazed at how well he hid it. There were moments at work when it would show but it only happened a few times. I never knew that he was being tortured both mentally and physically. I hate his mother so much. My own tears gather again.

I reach out slowly, my hand back on his cheek. He watches me with such intensity that I'm momentarily frozen. Then I remember something. "What does the rest of your family do?" I ask. They have to be just as effected as he is. Or maybe they just sit around and watch.

His eyes grow distant, darker. I've seen that look before. He had it the day I ran into him when I was going to see Haymitch in his office. I had thought that at the time that Haymitch caused it. That's obviously not true anymore. Peeta doesn't say anything. He takes his hand from mine, playing with a lose thread on the blanket. I remove my hand from his cheek.

I know I shouldn't pry especially since its clear he doesn't want to talk about it. But I need to know. "Finnick told me the other day that you have two older brothers. Rye and Tyler, I think. Does your mom hit them too?" I ask.

It takes him a moment to respond, his voice detached. "Not anymore." he says quietly. I'm confused by his statement. Why would his mother lay off the other two but still hit Peeta?

"Does your dad do anything to stop her?"

He cringes, his brow furrowing. "He used to try." he says with an edge to his voice.

"Peeta... what happened to your dad?"

He looks up at me, startled. He opens his mouth but closes it quickly. The blue of his eyes are still dark. I know I've hit a nerve but I wait until he responds. Peeta clenches his jaw, his eyes back to the blanket. "He's gone." he says curtly.

"What do you mean?"

"He left two years ago. After Tyler ran away."

My mouth drops open in shock. He can't be serious. "What?" I ask in disbelief.

Peeta takes a shuddered breath. "Tyler ran away a little over two years ago. He couldn't handle being beaten every day." his eyes gather with tears again. "Dad never did anything, so he ran away. Rye moved out as soon as he turned eighteen. His bags were already packed. As soon as the candles blew out, he was out the door. After Tyler ran away, it only took a month for dad to believe he was never coming back. So he left."

"You father just left you? After all of that?" I ask, a mixture of anger and disbelief in my voice.

Peeta nods. "I guess he couldn't handle it. I haven't seen him in two years. I don't even know where he could be." he says. "He just left one day. Without a word."

My throat tightens again. "I'm so sorry, Peeta." I whisper. I can feel a tear roll down my cheek and I brush it away.  
He looks up at me, tears rolling down his own cheeks. I can see a swirl of different emotions on his face, sadness, confusion, even anger. I know he's not angry at me. He's angry at his dad for leaving him. I can feel my chest tighten as I realize this amazing boy in front of me is more broken than I had previously thought.

"I don't even know if Tyler is still alive." He says. He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. "The police have been looking for him. Well, not so much anymore. They said that after the second day that if he didn't come back then our chances of seeing him again are slim to none." I can tell that talking about this is difficult for him. He takes another shaky breath, his eyes clouded over. "I can't stand not knowing. He could be out there somewhere and I wouldn't even know."

I listen silently, knowing that he probably hasn't take about this since it happened. "That's the only reason why I started fighting. My mother doesn't pay me for working at the bakery. So when I found out that you could make money in fighting, I came here to see if I could get some coaching. I did wrestling in high school so figured I already had some knowledge on it."

"What are going to use the money for?" I ask.

"It might sound ridiculous or like a waste of time but... I want to use the money to help the search for Tyler."

"Do you think you'll get enough?"

"I don't know. I hope. It all depends on the amount of fights I win. I just... I can't stand leaving it to the police knowing that their only doing the bare minimum. I know they already think he's not coming back. I can't go through the rest of my life not knowing where he is. He was only sixteen when he ran away"

"That's terrible." I say, thinking about the many possibilities that could have happened to him.

Peeta nods, tears in his eyes. "I don't worry about my dad. He's a grown man; he can take care of himself. He had money and a vehicle. He had everything he needed. Tyler only took the fifty dollar bill out of my dad's wallet. That was all he had."

"I'm really sorry, Peeta. I can't imagine how awful that must be."

"It's not great." he says with a dry chuckle. "I hate fighting. I can't stand it. It reminds me of my mother. I can't but think that the more I do it, the more I'll turn into her." He whispers.

"That's never going to happen." I tell him sternly.

I think back to his fight on Friday. How he looked like he didn't want to punch Marvel. It makes sense. Why would you want to cause the same pain that tortures you at home? Suddenly, I understand why Peeta always puts on a brave face. He needs it or otherwise he'll fall apart.

I reach back out and cup his cheek again. He closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. I suddenly wonder if he's ever had any sort of effective before. Certainly his mother didn't give him any. I doubt his brother or father did either. My mother may not be around all of the time but at least when she is, I know she cares. At least as much as she can before it starts to hurt too much.

I scoot closer to him, angling my body so I'm facing him better. My hand slides to the nape of his neck and I pull him forward until our foreheads are touching. His eyes open, watching me closely. The dim light reflects of the blue in his eyes, his hair. He takes a shaky breath after a moment. My fingers play with his curls as my other hand brushes the tears away from his cheeks, but more continue to fall. I can feel him shaking from crying. It doesn't take long for my own tears to finally fall. I had been trying my hardest to keep them in, but they wouldn't last.

My heart feels like it constricts in my chest as he continues to cry. I just want him to stop. I don't want to see him in pain because for some reason, it's like he's passing it along to me. I feel completely ridiculous for feeling this way. I don't like this feeling. I don't like that in matter of a few days he has managed to gain my trust without me even realizing it.

"My father died a year ago." I blurt out. I don't know what possessed me to say that. Maybe it's the fact that we're in similar situations or maybe my emotions are running high. Either way, I don't regret it.

Peeta pulls back, staring at me in shock. It quickly fades away, sadness and understanding taking its place. "I'm sorry." he says quietly.

"Me too. He was my best friend." I say. I can feel my throat tightening. I know if I keep talking about this then there's no way I'll be able to keep myself from crying but I try not to think about that. "We had just moved here. It was only his first week on the job. There was an accident that evening and-" I stop myself, my voice catching in my throat.

Peeta takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. I take a deep breath. "After that, my mom was really depressed. She stopped eating and talking. She wouldn't acknowledge me or Prim. We had to hand feed her. Prim would sit with her all day, begging her to do something. It didn't take me long to realize that the night my father died, I lost both my parents."

I wipe away a stray tear. "I have nightmares every night." I whisper. "I always see my father standing there at work. I always scream at him to pay attention but every time he just watches me, as if he doesn't understand what I'm saying. He just watches. It seems like every night I watch him die in some new horrible way. It tortures me every time I close my eyes."

Tears are streaming down my face now as if it's the first time I've ever cried. My chest feels tight, suffocating me with every emotion that I have refused to let out. I've always been too concerned about being strong for Prim that I've never allowed myself to feel anything. Retelling everything that's happened is like experiencing it all over again. I continue to cry, tears streaming relentlessly down my face.

Peeta grabs my hands, pulling me towards him. My arms automatically wrap around his neck as his move to circle around my waist. I'm momentarily shocked at how warm his arms feel and I fleetingly wonder if it's from his fever. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, my tears soaking his shirt. One of my hands moves down to grip the side of his tee shirt, pulling him closer.

He whispers soothing words in my ear as his hand rubs my lower back. It's oddly calming and I can feel myself relax into his touch. It's strange how quickly Peeta's mood can change. Just a minute ago he way crying himself and now he's comforting me as I cry. It's almost as if something snapped in him and he forgot all about his problems while he helps me deal with mine.

After a few minutes, I pull back. I quickly wipe my tears away, suddenly feeling embarrassed for crying in front of him. I keep my eyes trained on my lap, my cheeks heating in anger at myself for being so ridiculous. How could I have let myself break down? Peeta gently lifts my chin but I won't look at him.

"It's funny if you think about it." He says thoughtfully, his voice quiet. "About how both of our lives seem to have fallen apart within the last few years."

I look at him now, my brow furrowed. "What's funny about that?"

"That's not the part that's funny. We both ended up here. At this stupid gym. All of it because of our pasts." He says with a soft chuckle. "It's ironic, really."

I shake my head. "You have an interesting way of looking at things."

"I try to stay positive." He wipes one of my leftover tears away. "Although I guess I haven't done a very good job today."

"Neither have I." I say angrily.

He thinks for a minute, his hand lingering on my cheek. "Everyone needs a moment to break down." He whispers.

I stare at him. His eyes are filled with such kindness that I'm slightly taken aback. They still look clouded, darker than usual but not as bad as earlier. He's still hurting. I realize that, most likely, we'll always be hurting. We've both been through experiences that not even time can heal. And as much as I wish it were different, it's something that we can't change.

"Do you believe in fate?" he asks.

_No_, I want to say. I lift my hand to cover his from where it rests on my cheek. It fells warm, the heat slowly spreading to the rest of me. I don't know what to really make of any of this. About the way he's somehow managed to calm me down in less than a few minutes or the way his touch sends shivers down my back. I try not to think about that. In only confuses me, a jolt of fear spreading through me. I quickly push those thoughts away. Instead, I answer his question as honestly as I can, my voice a whisper.

"I didn't used too."

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**Alright. There's chapter 8. I hope you all liked it. Ya know, it still amazes me that I can get this nervous while posting a new chapter. I always think, "Okay, this is going to be the chapter that everyone hates." I'm so sorry! ;) **

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**Anyway, let me know what you think. :D **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN* I am so sorry you all had to wait so long for an update! But have no fear! It's finnaly updated! WOOHOO! **

**This chapter is honestly crazy. Just a heads up. **

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**Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. **

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Chapter 9

Heat. That's the first thing that comes to mind as I begin to wake. It's practically enveloping me, wrapping me in its tight embrace. This isn't the usual warmth that Prim's body provides in our small bed. This is a burning heat. The sensation sends a tingle to my cheek and waist, where the most warmth seems to be emanating. I can tell there's no need for alarm. As hot as I am, I'm strangely comfortable.

My mind tells me to get up, but I scoot closer to the warmth, relishing in the feeling of comfort that it provides. It's oddly soothing, like a past memory that's begun to fade. Visions of my father when he used to hold me when I was little dance before me. I can still feel his arms around me, hear the beat of his heart. The heat reminds me of the fire that we used to sit by as he used to read to me and Prim. Stories of princesses and castles. A knight in shining armor.

This is slightly different. I have an overwhelming feeling that I need to be pulled closer. The fluttering in my stomach is new as well. I close my eyes tighter, my fist clutching the blanket that's draped over me. My brow furrows as the faint scent of cinnamon and dill surrounds me. Its familiar and calming so I let it pull me under even more.

Suddenly I realize something. I've never been this comfortable or relaxed since my father died. Every time I close my eyes, I battle to keep the images away. It's been the same thing every night. If I don't wake up in a pool of my own sweat or from screaming my lungs off then I consider it a good rest. But this is different. This is safe. An alarm goes off in my head at the word. Nothing is safe anymore. This has to be another nightmare.

Slowly, I open my eyes, hoping it will wake me, and for a second I'm disoriented. This is not my house. My eyes widen as I realize I'm still at the gym, in Haymitch's apartment. The beer bottles and the rotten stench of uncleanliness is a dead giveaway. As my eyes shift to my waist, where the heat is trapping me, I have to stifle a gasp when I realize that it's coming from someone's arm.

My eyes follow the arm up to the persons shoulder, then to their face. My breath catches in my throat when I see its Peeta. He sleeps soundly, his head resting on the back of the couch. I bite the inside of my cheek as I try to figure out what to do. Carefully, I lift my head away from his chest. That explains the heat that was on my cheek. He must still have a fever.

As I lift my hand to feel his forehead, I suddenly become very aware of the fact that my hand was gripping the back of his tee shirt. My cheeks flare up in embarrassment and I can do nothing but try to stifle my groan and thank heaven all mighty that he is still sleeping. Being careful not to wake him, I rest my hand against his forehead to find that he's still burning up.

As soon as I start to move my hand away, his arm that's resting on my waist pulls me closer. Before I can stop it, a gasp of surprise escapes my lips. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake. I let out the breath I was holding. My eyes move down to his arm. I consider lifting it off me but I don't want to wake him. He's sick and he needs all the rest he can get.

I silently ponder how we even ended up like this. All that I can remember is admitting that I didn't use to believe in fate. I still can't believe I said that. Whatever possessed me to say that, I'll probably never know. Maybe it was just left over emotions from crying that was doing the speaking for me. I'm not even sure I know what I meant when I said it. All I do know is that I _shouldn't_ have said anything.

At this moment, my brain decides to betray me once again. All of the thoughts I had a few weeks back, when I was waiting outside on the sidewalk before Peeta showed up come rushing back to me. I squeeze my eyes shut_. No, no, no! Not right now!_ I had so successfully managed to forget all of that. I don't need it coming back, especially not right now. But of course, it seems to be screaming at me now and I can't seem to make it stop.

This is ridiculous! I can't deal with this right now. Not while Peeta's here. I know I'm being paranoid, but it seems like if any of those thoughts enter my mind, he'll be able to hear them. The thought of that happening makes the blood drain from my face. It's already hard enough to even acknowledge that they're there, I don't need it happening while he still has his arm draped over my waist.

The more I think about it, the more crazy I seem. I don't like the fact that this boy can cause me to feel completely lost. It's like he's slowly picking away at everything that I've been working on since my father died. He shouldn't be able to do that. He can't do that. No one should have that power over me, making me vulnerable. I don't like it. I almost scoff at myself.

I just want my sanity back.

I clench my jaw as I angrily stand up, ignoring how the couch groans loudly. It angers me even more that I want to make sure the noise didn't wake Peeta. I look behind me, at Peeta's sleeping form to see he hasn't moved a bit. Relief is the first thing I feel but that is completely demolished by the sudden rush of anger I feel. I shouldn't care if it wakes him up!

Clenching my fists, I start heading for the kitchen. This time I don't bother trying to stay quiet, purposely knocking around empty bottles, stepping on paper bags. _Good_, I think, _let it wake him!_ I start grinning like a mad woman as I practically kick a bottle across the room and listen with glee as it clatters loudly against the wall. I turn around, expecting to see him jumping awake in surprise. But I don't. He's still sleeping soundly, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from his fever.

I almost feel guilty but then I remember I shouldn't. His emotions and health and anything else related to him doesn't concern me. I groan at how completely unconvincing that sounds even to me. I think I've finally lost it. I'm not sure whether I should be concerned or happy. That maybe if I have lost my mind, I won't have to worry about what goes on inside of it.

But in case I haven't, I make sure that each step I take into the kitchen is extra loud.

Even though I went through here earlier, I still can't help but be surprised at the mess in here. I truly don't understand how Haymitch is still living. Or how his liver hasn't shriveled up into a raisin. It's a wonder that he's still managing to walk around. With how much he drinks, and who knows how long he's been drinking, I won't be that shocked if he just collapses one day, probably into a pool of his own vomit. And that would be the end of it. As terribly horrible as that image is, it's probably accurate.

As I open the drawers, trying to find what I'm looking for, I try not to smell anything. I'm pretty sure that slice of pizza on the counter is wiggling. You need a hazard suit just to stand in the middle of the floor. I feel sorry for any girl he brings here. Then I almost burst out laughing at how ridiculous that is. Just one look at him and any girl would think he was a hobo.

Each time that I don't find what I want, I slam the drawer closed. Hopefully it wakes up Peeta. It's then that I realize the whole reason I was going to the kitchen was to get a cool rag to put on his forehead. I almost laugh at how I'm being completely hypocritical. Two opposing ideas and yet I'm doing both. But either way it doesn't matter. I don't care about Peeta. So it doesn't really matter that I do this. Right?

Finally, I find a rag in one of the drawers. I take it to the sink and, once the water is cold, hold it underneath. After I wring it out, making sure no water drips, I head back to the living room. Just in case the cabinets didn't close loud enough; I kick around some more bottles on the floor. As I round the corner, I hold my breath and peek around. I groan as I see Peeta's still sleeping. How could all of that noise not have woken him? He must really need his sleep.

I silently curse myself. Here I am, not caring if I wake him up even though he's sick and obviously needs his rest. There must be something seriously wrong with me. Avoiding the trash once again, I slowly walk over to him. But of course, as soon as I'm just in front of him, I trip on a bottle. I gasp, my hands shooting out to catch myself. The noise wakes Peeta, his eyes widening as I quickly fall towards him.

"Woah!" he says, his hands catching my waist before I land completely on top of him.

My hands rest on the back of the couch, on opposite sides of his head, our faces only inches apart. I'm frozen as I stare at him in shock. His blue eyes bore into mine, his eyebrows raised in question. He probably thinks I was trying to molest him in his sleep. _Oh god._

"I tripped." I choke out.

He nods slowly as he watches me. "You okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yep."

"Good." He says, slightly breathless.

He bites his lip nervously as I become very aware of his hands on my waist. This is not good but I can't seem to move. I can't seem to look anywhere else but Peeta's eyes. With the soft glow from the lamp, it makes the blue look like its glowing. They look even brighter than Prim's, something I thought was impossible.

Peeta swallows nervously, but his eyes stay trained on me. His hands as they rest on my waist seem to send waves of heat through my body. Heat. His fever. My eyes dart to the rag in my hand before quickly looking back to Peeta. He still has a sheen of sweat on his forehead. And I'm sure the fact that I almost fell on top of him didn't help any.

"I got you a cool rag." I whisper, for some reason thinking that if I talked any louder that it would feel like screaming.

"Thank you." he says.

Neither of us makes any move to fix our position, though. My heart never seems to have slowed down from my fall. It beats rapidly in my chest, over and over again. I'm surprised he can't hear it. Both of our breathing seems to be labored and I suddenly become curious. I move one of my hands to his chest, right above his heart.

The black fabric of his tee shirt is soft under my fingers. I can hear his breath catching but I don't dare look at his face. Instead I focus on the rapid beat of his heart. I think it's going even faster than mine. Poor guy. I must have scared him to death. I slowly look at his face. His eyes watch me so intently that I feel my own breath catch.

"Sorry if I scared you." I say.

"You did at first but I'm fine now."

I raise an eyebrow at him. His heart is telling my differently. He chuckles nervously. "I'm fine. Really."

"Your heart is going crazy." I say as I narrow my eyes at him.

"Yeah. I guess it is." he says simply.

Finally, I move to sit next to him, so he won't have to keep holding me up. I don't move far, our legs are touching. Brushing his curls away, I lift the rag to place it on his forehead. He shivers slightly.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, but then quickly regret it as I remember how I woke up. I seriously hope he doesn't have any memory of me falling asleep on his chest.

"Yeah. I haven't slept that good in a long time." He says with a smile that causes me to blush scarlet. He doesn't remember, right?

His brow furrows as he watches me. "Are you hot?"

My eyes widen. "What?"

"Oh! I didn't mean it like that. I mean your cheeks are red. You look hot... Because of the temperature." he says quickly.

"Oh. No, I'm not hot." I say awkwardly. I think there's something wrong with me. Maybe I've gone bipolar.

"Thanks for taking care of me." he says earnestly. I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning. _If only you knew..._

I just nod my head in answer, my fingers fiddling with the blanket. It's now that I realize how ridiculous I was acting just a few minutes ago. But it wasn't entirely my fault. He would just stop acting like…like _him_, than I wouldn't have to go through all of this. My mind wouldn't be constantly trying to betray me with thoughts that really should not be thought. I hate that he's the reason for them and that no matter how much I try, now all that seems to be on my mind is him. I almost startle with how true that statement is.

As much as I wish it weren't, it's true. Ever since he ran away from the fight on Friday, Peeta has been plaguing my mind. Even when I managed to distract myself, it was never completely gone. It still lingered in the back of my mind. Haunting me. I can't think like that. I have to stop. My priorities are working and taking care of Prim. Anything else is a waste of time. It doesn't pay the bills. It's not worth it. I try not to think about the fact that, as much as I have repeated this to myself, a constant mantra, it always seems to fail.

I'll just have to try harder.

Feeling an elbow nudge my side softly, I look up to see Peeta watching me in concern. He smiles gently, and I can feel my body tense. _Crap._ He seriously needs to stop doing that. My eyes dart back to the blanket. I take a deep breath as I try to regain my composer. This whole day has taken its toll on me and it seems like with each passing second I go more and more crazy. It's just a matter of time before I truly lose it. If I haven't already.

I don't like it. I don't like that just one boy can make my walls crumble without even trying. As much as I know this isn't Peeta's fault, it's easier to blame him than to think that I have so easily let him in. No, that was my fault. If my father's death has taught me anything it's that love or anytime emotion is dangerous. It can kill anyone affected without stopping their heart or closing their lungs. Love doesn't care that it rips people away like it's the most natural thing in the world. It could care less. So I can't. I can't keep trusting Peeta so openly, because nice people seem to have a way of worming their way into my heart and staying there. And that's something I can't afford to let happen. I try to ignore the voice in the back of my head that tells me I'm too late.

Peeta grabs one of my hands, stilling its movement. He tugs it lightly as he tries to gain my attention. I try to ignore it, keeping my eyes down as if he isn't there. I know it's stupid. He's obviously there and I'll have to talk to him sooner or later but I can't. Not right now. So I ignore it for as long as I can. It ends up lasting another two seconds before I look at him. It's sickening how quickly my plan is crumbling.

"Are you alright?" he asks me quietly.

His question takes me aback slightly. "Am I alright? You're the one who's sick."

"I know… but you look a little distracted. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He says as he grips my hand a little tighter.

Oh, great. Now he's worried about me. That's the last thing I need. "I'm fine." I snap.

His brow furrows slightly and I try to ignore the flash of hurt on his face. "Okay. I'm sorry that you have to be up here, watching over me. I'm sure it wasn't your idea. It was probably Annie who sent you. I'm sorry."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Her and Finnick, actually. That's not what I'm mad about though." I say before I even think about the words that just came out of my mouth.

"What are you mad about?" He asks.

_Oh, just about how everything you do has this uncontrollable effect on me that I can't seem to get rid of no matter how much I try. Ya, know…the usual_, I think sarcastically.

"Nothing." I say instead.

We're both silent. I make no attempt to start a conversation and Peeta doesn't seem too enthusiastic about talking now either. I'm both grateful and slightly concerned. It's rare when Peeta doesn't speak. That's usually when his family is brought up. The fact that they haven't been mentioned since we woke up and he's already gone silent is slightly unnerving. It takes every ounce of my will not to look at him and ask him if he's alight. What good would that do?

My eyes scan the room. Its dark, the only light being from the lamp on the end table. I should probably go back down stairs and check on Prim. I don't even know what time it is. Besides, I doubt I'm doing any good helping Peeta. If Annie and Finnick were concerned for his health they should have sent Prim. She would be much more help than I. What Peeta needs is cold medicine which I doubt Haymitch owns. At least Prim would know the basics.

I shift uncomfortably on the couch. "I need to go check on Prim." I say quietly, my eyes focused on the floor.

"Prim's here?" He asks.

"Yeah. I'll be back later to check on you."

"No, don't." he says quickly, "I'll be fine."

I open my mouth to protest but quickly shut it. It's better if I don't have to come back up here anyway. "Okay. You should probably try to get some more sleep." I say as I stand up.

"Maybe." He says with a shrug.

I nod and quickly make my way towards the stairs as I try not to look too eager to leave. In reality, I'm practically running down the stairs as I take them two at a time. Anyone who could see me would probably think I was trying to escape a raging fire that's about to consume the whole building. Maybe there should be a fire. That would make things a whole lot easier. My hand grips the railing so tightly, my knuckles turn white. The hair that fell lose from my braid while I was sleeping flies in front of my face with each jump that I make. I think it's official that my sanity has run away and locked itself in a closet.

Light streams into the staircase as I reach the bottom. For a second I wonder if the storm has passed and if the sun has finally came out but I quickly realize that it's just from the better lighting that's in the gym. That figures because why would something as trivial as the weather go right on a day like today? If I hadn't known any better, I'd say that fate was out to get me. It's probably payback for me ever doubting it in the first place. Just another thing that proves insanity. Oh well. Not everyone can get what they want.

The sound of feet shuffling can be heard as from my left, in the boxing ring. Finnick and Thresh dance around each other as they dodge punches and kicks, Finnick constantly shouting for Thresh to correct his moves. His golden hair falls into his eyes as he moves but he makes no move to push it away as he takes a jab in Thresh's direction. My eyes leave the ring and land on the two bodies huddled together on the floor in the middle of the room. The bright blonde ponytail is an obvious giveaway as to who it is.

I walk over to Annie and Prim, peering over them to see what they are doing. A messy deck of cards sits next to Annie, the edges warn and discolored. Their hands each hold their own cards that they are each staring at with intensity. Silently, trying not to break them from their strange concentration, I move around them to sit in front, my legs crossed. I tug on my braid absently as I watch. Annie is the first to speak. "Got any threes?" She says seriously as my eyebrows shoot up.

Prim smirks. "Nope. Go fish."

"Dang it! That's the fourth time I've had to go fish!" Annie exclaims as she angrily grabs a card from the messy deck.

My eyes dart in-between them, back and forth. "That's what you guys are playing?" I ask in disbelief. "You both looked so serious I could have thought you playing for money."

Their head snap in my direction, as if noticing me for the first time. I guess I'm not that surprised.

"Well don't say it like it's the easiest games in the world." Annie says. "Prim's hard to play against. I've already lost three games." She grumbles.

"I guess it's a good thing we're not playing from money then, huh?" Prim asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah, otherwise I'd be broke."

Prim laughs as she examines her cards again. "Got any sevens?"

Annie sighs. "Yeah, here." She grumbles as she hands Prim her card who greedily snatches it up and tucks it into her own pile.

"So what took you so long?" Annie asks as she faces me. "You were up there for over two hours."

"Oh." I say in surprise. I hadn't realized so much time had passed.

"Yeah… '_Oh_'." Annie says teasingly. "Did you have fun?"

My cheeks flare up and my eyes dart to the floor. "It was… it was interesting." That's clearly an understatement. Especially considering the fact that I spent the first half up there comforting a crying Peeta, then joining him as I cried myself, which happened to be the first time in over a year, and then I fell asleep and woke up with my head on his chest then spent the rest of the time auguring with myself as I lost my mind. Interesting doesn't even begin to describe what happened up there.

Annie and Prim both stare at me, unconvinced. I shrug, my way of telling them that I'm not going to talk about it. They glance at each other, a knowing look slowly spreading across their faces that makes me squirm in my spot. I really should not be so surprised that Annie and Prim seems to have bonded so quickly of so surprised that they seem to already have the same devious way of thinking. All I can do is hope that their way of thinking doesn't play against me.

"Really? How interesting was it?" Annie asks slowly.

"The normal kind." I say with a glare, my voice warning.

"You know…I wouldn't ever really classify falling asleep, cuddled in someone's arms as 'the normal kind' of interesting." Prim says causally as she fiddles with her cards. My eyes widen, my cheeks heating up. _No, no, no. Please let them be joking!_

"I don't know, Prim." Annie says, her green eyes sparkling. "Maybe that's normal for Katniss and Peeta."

Prim giggles. "You have a good point. So tell us, Katniss…how long have you guys been dating?"

My mouth drops open. "What?"

Annie leans over conspiratorially. "It's okay. You can tell us." She says.

"We're not dating. Not even close." I say quickly. "I'd barely even call him a friend." I glare at them. This isn't even funny.

"I'm still surprised that you can so clearly lie to yourself." Finnick says as he suddenly appears behind me.

"You told him?" I ask Prim and Annie in disbelief but before they can respond, Finnick speaks up again. "No. I just heard everything. You really weren't trying to keep your voices down. And if what I heard was true then, like I said, I'm still shocked that you're lying to yourself." He says as he crosses his arms.

I stand so I can face him. "Lying about what?" I spit at him. "What I said was true. We're not dating and we never will be." I say as my eyes narrow at him. He has no right making assumptions about me when he barely knows me.

"That's not what I was referring to." He says. "No matter what you say or what you try to convince yourself, he's your friend and you care about him." I flinch at that. "See, I can tell. It's obvious."

"You have no idea what's obvious. You have no right to assume how I feel." I say angrily.

"What would need to be said to convince you?" He says, just as angry. "For being as observant as you are, you can be extremely blind."

"I can see clear enough to know that I am not and will never be anything more than an acquaintance to him. That's it!"

"See! That's exactly it! You can't even admit that you're his friend."

"That's because I'm not!" I shout.

"Really? Because last time I checked acquaintances don't comfort each other, or fall asleep in each other's arms. Nor do they have near mental breakdowns when they're worried about the other." He says, accusatory.

"That never happened." I say, my voice low.

"You obviously didn't see how you were acting yesterday then. You were a complete mess, whether you admit it or not." He says with a glare. "Last time I checked, that's not something acquaintances do. Heck, I don't even think that happens to friends!"

"Well apparently it does." I snap.

"No. It doesn't. You're lying to yourself and you know it."

"Stop acting like you know me!" I shout. "I've been here for two weeks and your acting like you know me inside out!"

"No offence kitty cat, but you're not the hardest person to read." Finnick says with a slight smirk.

I glare at him. "You can't understand, okay? I do not care about him! I cannot care about him! It doesn't matter what you say to convince me because it's not going to happen. I just can't, okay? I can't." The last part comes out in a whisper, my voice cracking. I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes so advert my gaze so he won't see. I fell a small hand grab my elbow, gently pulling me away from Finnick. Looking down, I see Prim watching me closely, her blue eyes filled with concern.

I let her guide me over to weight bench as she gently pushes me to sit down. Angrily, I wipe at my eyes, hoping that she won't see the tears. I won't look at her and she knows that. With a sigh, she kneels in front of me, waiting for me to say something. When I don't she finally speaks, her voice low. "Katniss, I know you're scared but you don't have to be."

My brow furrows but I don't respond. "You know, I used to sneak downstairs after mom and dad tucked us in to bed whenever I got thirsty. I would have woken you but I figured there was no need." She says, her hands folded on her lap, a faint smile gracing her lips. My brow furrows further as I try to figure out why she's telling me this. I don't have to wait long for her to explain. "Each night, I waited just at the bottom of the staircase, peeking around the corner. And every time I could see mom and dad on the couch. His arm around her as her head rested on his shoulder." She continues in a faraway voice. "They would giggle and talk and mom would always get the dreamy look in her eyes whenever dad would kiss her temple." She chuckles lightly.

"Prim, why are you telling me this?" I ask in a quiet voice, because I don't think I'll be able to handle it any more if she continues. I don't want to be reminded of the past and of what will never happen again. I'll never see that look in my mom's eyes again, or listens to my dad's laughter in the evening as we sit by the fire. I can't handle that. Not now.

But Prim doesn't listen, she just continues talking as if she didn't hear me. "I remember thinking that I had never seen either of them so happy than when they were together. It was almost like the fairytale romances that dad would read to us before bed. The couple that was so in love that it seemed impossible." She pauses as her voice catches, takes a deep breath. "I know that you don't believe in love, that it's just a waste and that no good can come from it but a broken heart. And that can be true. Mom has one now." She says quietly, her eyes on her folded hands. "But I can tell you this. I don't doubt for one second that mom regrets falling in love with dad. She may be sad all the time and she may never recover, but she had the best ten years of her life with dad. It doesn't really take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled and laughed all the time. She was happy."

A tear falls from her eye as she speaks but she doesn't bother to wipe it away. My throat tightens as Prim speaks. My chest clenches painfully. "Prim-" I start pleadingly, hoping she'll stop but she cuts me off.

"Katniss, don't be scared to love. It's worth it. I know you don't think you can love and I'll admit, we've both seen some pretty discouraging things when it comes to that, but don't let it stop you. Please. You have such a good heart and I would hate to see it go to waste because you're scared to do anything."

I shake my head. "You're wrong, Prim." I say quietly.

"I'm not. It's worth it, Katniss. I'm telling you that it's worth opening your heart up. Let yourself feel something. Be happy. For once. For yourself." Her eyes bore into mine, pleading for me to understand. She takes my hands into hers and gives them a squeeze. "You're so strong, Katniss. I've always admired you for that. I wish I was as strong as you." She says honestly and my throat tightens again. "So please, please do this. For dad and mom. For yourself. Please."

"Prim, I don't-"

"Just try. I'm not saying you have to fall in love right away or that you should be throwing yourself at anyone but give it a chance." She says. "And you know, you may not believe me when I say this but… the look that I used to see in mom's eyes whenever she saw dad…it's the same one I've seen in your eyes when you see Peeta."

My eyes widen as I blush. "That's not true." I mumble.

"It is. I knew you wouldn't believe me but it is true. And you know what?" she asks.

"What?" I ask wearily.

"Peeta gets the same look." She says with a smile, her blue eyes sparking.

Then I remember something that Annie said earlier. "I doubt that, Prim. You and Annie already told me earlier that his heart is already taken." I grumble.

Prim laughs. "You're so hopeless, Katniss."

* * *

The following week continues without much change. Peeta has continued to stay with Haymitch, since apparently, according to Haymitch; he's not going back until the witch demands his return. Once Peeta got over his cold, he and Finnick started a new workout routine for a new competition that's coming up. Apparently it consists of five rounds that work as an elimination process. The routine is rather rigorous, with much of Peeta's time in the boxing ring or lifting weights as Finnick constantly hovers over him.

Ever since the incident last week, when I feel asleep with him, we've barely had any time to talk rather than the awkward greetings. I personally don't mind. I would rather us not talk than have to actually talk about how weird I was acting. If I can't push that off, then I would be a happy camper. Prim keeps reminding me to keep an open opinion and if I hadn't respected her so much, I probably would have just told her to leave it alone. But I do, so I try as best as I can with mine and Peeta's schedule. I'm not expecting to fall in love, I don't want too, but I can try to be friends. I at least owe Prim that.

During my time of constantly thinking of when I'll finally be able to talk to Peeta, I have had to deal with Johanna Mason. She finally started to show up to work on a regular basis and I had really hoped that she would disappear again. It won't be long before either one of us takes out the other. Honestly, the sooner the better. A scowl never fails to form on my face whenever she's around. And I make sure to direct it exactly at her. I could care less if she realized how much I hate her because she hates me right back.

My hands clench around the broom handle as Johanna passes me with a smirk, her brown eyes mischievous as they watch me. "What?" I spit at her.

"Oh nothing. I was just watching how you've been sweeping the same spot for the last ten minutes."

"So? I wanted to make sure it was clean." I reply with a glare.

"Yes, I'm sure. And that's why you were staring at Peeta the whole time." She says with a smirk, her eyes traveling over to where Peeta is lifting weights.

I scowl. "Don't you have toilets to clean?"

"I'll get to it eventually. I don't have as great a view from there, though. Who would want to miss the gun show?" She says mockingly, her eyes darting back to Peeta.

"Apparently you don't." I say sharply.

She smirks, turning her back to me as she saunters over to Peeta. He smiles slightly, putting his weights away as he listens to Johanna speaking. My grip on the handle tightens again. She places a hand on his shoulder before leaning in to whisper in him ear, causing him to blush profusely. As she walks away she winks at me before disappearing in the lockeroom, leaving Peeta uncomfortably standing by the weight bench, his eyes trained on the floor. I'm surprised Finnick isn't next to him until I turn around to see him flirting with Annie at the desk.

I shake my head as I walk over to the supply closet, gently placing the broom inside. My eyes dart to the clock on the wall to see that my shift is over. Brushing my hands off on my pants, I turn around and head over to the front desk. Annie sees me coming and tosses me my jacket.

"See ya tomorrow!" She calls as I head towards the door, turning around so I can face the whole room.

"Bye, see you later. You too, Finnick." I say.

"Ya whatever." He says with a smirk.

My eyes dart over to Peeta to see him watching, a small smile on his lips. I give a slight wave at him before ducking out the door without waiting for his response. I'm already halfway down the alley before I hear his voice calling out to me. My brow furrows as I come to a complete stop, slowly turning around to face him. His hair is ruffled as he jogs over, his white tee shirt sweaty from his work out. He stops a few feet in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I wait for him to speak first.

"I'm sorry we haven't gotten to talk much. I've just been really busy with training but I wanted to thank you. For helping me last week." He says quietly, his voice honest.

"You don't have to thank me." I say.

"I know, but I was grateful and I wanted you to know. I'm sorry about everything that happened and I know you don't feel like you did anything but it really helped. I haven't really had that many people to talk to about that and I-" He's rambling now so I decide to cut him off.

"You're welcome." I say.

He smiles at me. "You should probably hurry home. It might rain soon." He says.

I look up at the sky to see it covered in gray. The air is muggy, the humidity high. I can already feel myself begin to sweat. "Yeah, I probably should." I say with a scowl. Does it ever _not_ rain here?

Peeta opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it, his cheeks tinting slightly. His blue eyes dart to the ground as he shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He says.

"Okay." I say, watching as he turns around and starts walking back towards the gym.

I take a deep breath, silently cursing myself to call out to him. To say what I want to say. To see his smile again. "Peeta!" I yell as I begin jogging over to him.

He turns around in surprise, his eyes trained on me. "Thank you. For helping me too." I say quietly, my cheeks heating. I am grateful to him. He helped me better than I thought anyone could have. He has a calming presence that I'm not used to. I think that helped a lot.

He smiles at me and my breath actually catches. That's all I can do not to roll my eyes at myself. It's now that I realize how close we are standing. If I barely reached out, I could touch him. He's a good head or so taller than I am, which causes me to have to look up at him. Suddenly, I want to reach out to him, to feel that same calmness wash over me again. His eyes are soft, something hidden behind them that I can't place. So I take Prim's advice, and I do what I want. Slowly, almost tentatively, I step closer, my arms winding around his waist. Friends hug.

Once his shock fades, his arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to him. It's a quick hug, nothing that will freak me out too much but I can't ignore the feeling of warmth that rushed through me. I pull back and give him a small smile to which he just beams at me. "I'll see you later, Peeta." I tell him.

"See you later." He says.

I leave him standing there as I quickly turn around and head home.

* * *

The first sign of trouble comes from the small black car parked in front of the house. The same one that I saw that gang completely destroyed. It looks better now, but not much. My brow furrows as I try to figure out why it's parked in front of our house, of all the houses on this street. I take extra caution as I walk up the steps to the front door. Slowly, I grab the cold handle of the door and pull it open. The entryway is empty but I can hear voice. My mother's, Prim's and someone else's. It's far to chipper for my liking and I don't recognize. I'm suddenly angry that my mother let in a stranger.

Tossing my coat aside, I head into the living room, preparing to throw whoever it is out. I stop short when I see the bright pink suit, the perfectly blonde styled hair. My mother sits on the chair in the corner, Prim leaning against the side. The strange lady sits on the couch, her legs crossed and an all the large smile stretched across her face. Prim automatically looks relieved at the site of me while my mother's eyes drop to the floor.

"Who are you?" I ask the lady.

"Katniss." My mother warns. "Sit."

I ignore her, my eyes narrowed at the lady as I wait for her to explain her visit.

She stands, quickly crossing over to me as she extends her hand. "My name is Effie Trinket. I work at the Chicago Community Home." She says cheerily as the blood drains from my face. "I'm here to speak with Primrose."

* * *

**Awkward convos, strange hugs and inner aurgueing. It's fun stuff. **

**Katniss still denys her feelings... what a hopeless idiot she is. **

**I hope you guys liked this chapter. Please let me know what you guys think! **

***** Also, in honor of my 200th review I said I was going to do a special dedication to some of my readers so below is a list of all my special thanks. I'm sorry if I didnt get to all of you in this chapter but I will continue it in the next one. I just didn't want a super long list on here. :) **

_**So, without further ado...**_

**Katniss10: Thank you for recommending my story! I'm super glad you like it and thank you for reviewing! :)**

**Columbia R0se: Thank you so much for your constent reviews. :)**

**Hotpielookedlikehotpie: First, thank you for the awesome user name. I laugh evertime I see it. Also, thank you for you continued support. :)**

**Mockingjay Rue: I ment to give you a shout out for your review from chapter 7 (I think). It cracked me up like crazy, how you qouted those songs. :D Funny stuff. **

**: Thanks for being my very first review for this story (That wasn't a guest) and thank you so much for sticking with the story! **

**Of Pearls And Paints: I love, love you long reviews that you give me! They are so helpful! I love reading them. :)**

**Peetaismylife: I wanted to thank you for you very, very enthusiastic reviews! They never fail to make me laugh. :D I absolutly love reading them. Thank you. :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**AN***** Hello everyone! Guess what I've got? Yes, it's chapter 10 of The Fighter! Yay! I'm super sorry for the long wait.**

**I've been extremely busy for awhile now and I haven't had that much time to write. :( As a result, this chapter is a bit shorter. I had originally planed to add another scene but you guys probably would have had to wait another week so I figued the scene could wait until the next chapter. I hope ya'll don't mind. **

**Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I love hearing what you guys think of the chapters. It makes my day to read them. I still can't believe I've almost gotten 250 reviews. You are all incredible. Thank you so much. :D**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. **

* * *

Chapter 10

A dead silence spreads across the room as her words are left floating in the air. Her pale hand that she had held out to me falls limply at her side. Nothing but a stagnant air is costuming the room but inside my head her words a replaying like a mantra_. I work at the Chicago Community Home._ They seem to echo, growing louder and louder until that's the only thing I can understand besides the knot forming in my stomach.

Fear is first thing that registers because they can't take Prim away. I can't let that happen. I've seen the kids that live there before. On my way to the market. They look hollowed and bruised, begging me with their eyes to help them escape. I try to ignore it, pretend that I don't see their desperate stares, but of course I know it's there. I can't let that happen to Prim. I've worked so hard and for so long to keep her healthy and safe. To do what my mother was supposed to do in the first place.

My eyes dart over to where she sits on the chair. At the sight of her down cast eyes, her hands folded tightly on her lap, my anger starts to grow. How could she allow this lady into our house? And how convenient of her to finally get out of bed. Right when they're here to take her daughter away. My hands ball into fists as I glare at her. How convenient, mother. You deserve an award for snapping back into reality at the best possible moment. Oh, how righteous of you.

Prim stands silently in the corner as she leans against the chair my mother sits in. Her hand grips the arm of it so tight that her knuckles are tuning white. Her blue eyes look frightened as they drift between me and the lady waiting silently across from me. Her face has paled considerably, her cheeks no longer holding that rosy tint. I wave her over to me and she quickly rushes to me, throwing her arms around my waist. I hold her tightly; the only comfort I can give her because we both know there's nothing I can do to stop her from leaving.

When she pulls away, I take her hand in mine, holding it tightly as I finally look back at the lady. Her bright pink suit looks so out of place in our dull living room, her smile too bright for the occasion that she has showed up for. I scowl at her, My eyes narrowed as she fidgets uncomfortably with the bracelet on her wrist. Her eyes dart between me and Prim, a small frown on her face before she shakes her head and settles herself back onto the couch.

There's no point in asking why she's here. It's blaringly obvious. The best thing I can do is put on a brave face, of not for Prim then for the sake of myself. Because I honestly don't think I can handle this without it. I have to be strong for my only other option is to let my anger and fear take over, which would mostly likely end with the lady being shoved out the door as roughly as possible. I think it's reasonable to realize how that would not help in this case.

So instead, I keep my gaze steady, my grip on Prim's hand tight. I ignore the knot in my stomach, ignore the urge to start screaming at my mother for letting this happen. Or the anger I feel at myself for not doing a better job because we shouldn't be in this situation. After what feels like hours of just staring, the lady, Effie I think, opens her mouth to speak, her voice too light and happy.

"Well, I think we all know why I'm here. You seem like a bright young lady." she says as she smiles at me. "You must be Katniss."

When I don't respond she shifts in her seat, smoothing her skirt out. "Ah, yes. Well, I guess I can just cut to the chase." She faces my mother then. "Now, Mrs. Everdeen, I mean no disrespect when I say that you are not fit to take care of your child anymore. The loss of your husband was tragic to say the least but unfortunately it has rendered you unfit as a mother."

At this, my mother's eyes begin to fill. "The board at the Community Home, the people I work with that help determine when a child should be emitted, decided it was best if I kept watch on you all to see if young Primrose here was one of those children." Effie says and I can feel my anger boiling. "You see, we had gotten a tip from a neighbor that had said they had seen two kids living in this house but they had never seen the mother." she explains.

My brain automatically starts searching for the neighbor it could have been. I would just love to get my hands on them. I try to think back, to if I had ever seen anyone who might have done that. But I can't think of anyone. I barely see my neighbors as it is, except maybe when they walk to their cars but even then that could be almost everyone on my street. Either way, I can feel my face heat up in anger.

"So," Effie continues, "the board and I had thought it would be a good idea if we confirmed this before we jumped the gun. So for the past week, I've been watching your house to see what would happen. If I would see your mother or just two kids like the neighbor said."

My fists clench together at her words. So she's been spying on us for a week, all so she can take Prim away. I bite the inside of my cheek, the taste of blood filling my mouth. Before I can even think about if what she did is legal or not, she continues speaking.

"The results, unfortunately, we're accurate in the sense that your mother was never seen. I saw plenty of you, Katniss. Taking out laundry, bringing in food and going to work. But unfortunately, your still a minor and do not have legal guardianship over Prim and that was not acceptable."

"Can I get guardianship?" I ask, my voice steely.

"You can but you have to be twenty-one and the paper work can take months to process and file. So really, I won't do any good."

I take a deep breath as I try to keep my composure. I want this lady out of my house. Right now. "So Prim has to stay there until I turn twenty-one, file for guardianship and then I can take her back?" I ask.

"Yes, technically speaking. Unless someone adopts her by then. Which is likely." Effie says matter of factly.

I can feel the knot in my stomach increasing. The blood draining from my face. I grip Prim tighter, pulling her closer to me. She can't get adopted. I didn't even know they did adoptions there. No, this isn't right. It can't be. "Adopted?" I ask in disbelief. Prim looks up at me with a look of panic on her face but I can't seem to get my voice to work.

"Yes. Adoption can take up to a year in some cases so you would still have two years to go before you could claim guardianship over her but it would be too late."

"So why are you not taking me too? I'm not eighteen yet. I'm still a minor." I ask.

"Your birthday is in a couple months. Am I correct?"

I nod, ignoring the fact that she knows when my birthday is. "Well considering the fact that you will be a legal adult in less than six months, the board and I decided it would be better if you just stayed here. You seem perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and the cost of bringing in another child would be too much. Especially since you would only be staying for a two months."

I nod in understanding but I can still feel my anger present. If I can take care of myself then why can't they just leave Prim with me?She glances at my mother wearily, probably concerned by the fact that she hasn't said anything. I want to scream at her. I want her to say something. To jump up from her chair and pronounce that she wasps perfectly capable of taking care of Prim. To promise that she won't get adopted and taken away by some strange family that could take her halfway across the state. They could even take her across the country for all I know. But my mother does nothing but fiddle with her hands, unwilling to look any of us in the eye. Coward.

Effie grabs her bag that was resting in the floor by her feet, and hoists in onto her lap. She digs through it quickly, pulling out some bright pamphlet. After considering handing it to my mother she pauses than hands it to me. I scowl at the bright colors, the picture of the smiling couple on the cover as they each hold the hand of a child. That stupid rainbow in the background with the bright blue skies. It's fake in every definition of the word.

I flip through it quickly finding instructions and details for the Community Home. Visitation hours, activities. The hatred I already held for this place has increased by tenfold. I want to rip this thing to shreds and throw it into the fire to watch it burn. Prim holds out her hand, asking if she can see and I hand it to her so she can look at it before looking back at Effie.

"It really is a lovely place." she says brightly. I scoff at her. She's lying through her teeth and she knows it. That place looks like a sea of ghosts took over the place. There's not a bright thing to look at. Except maybe Effie's clothes.

"When are you taking her?" I ask bitterly.

"Next week. On Friday." she says as her smile falters slightly.

Prim's eyes grow large and I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into my side. It's almost as if I keep her close to me no one can take her. My jaw clenches as I stare at Effie. It's taking all of my will not to lung at her.

"How considerate." I say tightly. "Give us a week together before you rip her away and give her up for adoption. You're too kind."

Her smile drops. I consider throwing her out right now. What more could she have to say? I want her gone. She shifts on the sofa, crossing her legs as she folds her hands together. Her eyes drift between me and Prim. "I know this is hard for you two-" she starts to say.

"You think?" I ask bitterly, cutting her off.

"But you have to understand that it's in the best interest of the child." she presses, ignoring my comment.

My hands ball into fists again. "No. What's best for Prim is to stay here._ I_ take care of her._ I_ make sure she's fed._ I_ make sure she's going to school. I know what's best for her." I spit out.

"And what about you, Katniss? Are you even going to school? You should be in graduating soon."

I set my jaw, my eyes narrowing at her. It's true that I had to give up school. But I had to take care of my family. Work, provide and care for them. School was getting in the way of that so I dropped. Nobody really noticed anyway. Mom certainly didn't. Prim begged me to stay in school, claiming that she didn't want to be the cause of my future downfall because I didn't have a high school diploma. I had to, though. And I don't regret it.

"That's what I thought." Effie says quietly. "This is what's best for the both of you. It may not seem like it now but it's true."

"Prim getting adopted and sent to some strange family is not what's best. I don't care what you say. You're wrong." I say.

She sighs. "I understand that but-"

"No. I don't care what you have to say." I practically growl at her. "I need you leave." She opens her mouth to speak but I won't let her. "Now."

I step away from Prim, walking over to the hallway and motion for Effie to leave. With a small, resigned nod, she stands to her feet, gathering her bag onto her should. As she passes me she gives a slight shake of her head. "I'll still be here on Friday." she nearly whispers, her eyes darting to where Prim stands.  
"Good bye." I say through clenched teeth.

And with that, she's gone, the door softly closing behind her.

I stand there, glaring at the door as I try to calm myself for Prim's sake. I concentrate on the groves in the dark wood, the pattern that it makes. The way the lighting casts shadows across the floor in at an odd angle. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to picture the shadows as just another thing that's lurking around the corner, just waiting to take everything I have away. I bite my lip at the thought.

In essence, Prim really is all that I have left. My father's gone. My mother might as well be. For the last year my whole purpose in life has been to take care of Prim. To make sure she's okay. I've obviously failed because know she has to leave to live in that horrible community home that might as well be the same as tossing her out on the street or handing her over to a stranger. I guess that's true though. Those people that work there are strangers.

My stomach clenches. Images of the children at the community home with their pleading eyes bore holes onto my brain. Hollow cheeks. Bruised skin. Children that look like ghosts. My cheeks flare up in anger. I can't believe I had been so careless! I could have avoided this. I could have forced my mother to do something. I could have done something to keep Prim away from there. To keep her away from becoming one of those ghosts.

I suddenly want nothing more than to scream. At my mother. At myself. At my father for dying. At this stupid city. This stupid house. At Effie and her all too chipper voice and painted nails. At the community home. I can feel my body begin to tremble. I want to break _something_. Anything. My hand grips the wall tightly as I squeeze my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath I try to stay calm. It doesn't work. My throat tightens and I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I hate this. I hate it so much!

I have to fight the urge to run out the door. To escape to the gym because for some reason all I can think about is cinnamon and dill. Warm arms around my waist as the sound of a steady heart beat calms me. That same feeling of safety that I hadn't felt in over a year but somehow managed to feel again. That soothing hand that rubbed circles on my back as I cried. As I let myself finally breakdown. An intense feeling of longing consumes me to the point where I almost fall to my knees.

_Not now_, I practically plead with myself. _Please not now_. I have to think about Prim. Indulging myself in self-loathing is a mistake. Prim's the one who has to leave. She's the one who could possibly move halfway across the country with strangers. She's the one who's only thirteen and is counting on me not to completely lose it. With another deep, shaky breath I straighten up. My hand slowly releases the wall, my fingers brushing against the ruff surface. With all my might I try to wipe away any negative emotions from my face. Prim depends on happiness. I can't be happy right now, that's impossible, but I can try to be as lease upset about this as I can.

So I march back into the living room. Prim sits on the couch, tears silently streaming down her cheeks as she stares at the floor. My mother still sits on the chair, a vacant look in her eye. Quickly, I look away before my anger returns. She won't even comfort her own daughter or acknowledge that she's part of the reason she's crying in the first place.

"Prim." I say quietly. She looks up, her blue eyes cloudy. "Why don't we go to the bedroom?"

She nods, slowly standing to her feet as she follows me down the hall to our room. I close the door behind us and settle myself next to Prim on the bed, tucking my feet underneath me. Silent years continue to stream down her face as she hopelessly tries to wipe them away. Pushing aside my own urge to start crying, I take one of Prim's hands in mine, encouraging her to look at me.

Her blue eyes are pleading. "I don't want to be adopted." she says desperately. "I don't want to move away. Katniss, please."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I know, Prim. I don't want you to either."

"Can't we do something? Convince them that mom's alright or that you can take care of me. Something." She pleads.

I can't answer her, knowing that it won't take long before she realizes that it's far beyond anything I can do. Her eyes search mine for a moment, a resigned look taking over. "You can't stop it, can you?" she whispers, another tear falling.

I shake my head. "I'm so sorry." I say.

Her head falls into her hands as more tears fall. I quickly gather her into my arms, rocking her back and forth as she cries. Her tears soak my shirt, the sound of her sobbing breaking my heart with each muffled gasp. I bite the inside of my cheek once again as I try with everything I have not to join her. Tears prick the back of my eyes but I manage to keep them from falling. My throat feels like it's being crushed but I still manage to breath.

"I'm so sorry, Prim. I'm so sorry."

* * *

The originally yellow colored gloves turned brown sometime between ten minutes of scrubbing and fifteen minutes. I've now been scrubbing the base of the toilets for almost forty minutes and my gloves are now black. The unlimited supply of filth in this place is astounding. I scrub even harder, to the point where to grip I hold on the brush begins to hurt.

I don't stop, though. My knees begin to ache from balancing myself on the cold, wet tile. I try to ignore it, ignore the cold water as it soaks through my jeans. I try to ignore my head as its pounds. I try to ignore the shiver that runs down my spine and the heat that I feel on my cheeks. I try to ignore the stupid dirt that won't come off this blasted toilet!

I lean back, throwing the brush against the floor, flinching at the sound of it clattering loudly. There's no point in even cleaning this stuff because no matter how many times and how many hours you spend cleaning it, it always goes back to being disgusting. It's just wasted time and effort and it's starting to get on my nerves. I hate this place. I hate this locker room. I hate this building. I just hate it! I wish it would all just disappear.

I stare vacantly at the mint green walls. It's like I'm seeing without seeing. I can see the mold growing across the top of the wall, but I barely notice. I can see how the paint is beginning to peel, but it looks fogy. Nothing seems right. It's like I'm walking through the day as a figurine in someone else's story. I feel like a robot that's batteries are about to die. I can't concentrate. I can't fell any other emotion besides anger and I just want it to stop.

The sound of the door screeching open pulls me from my thoughts. My hands ball into fists at the sound of the approaching footsteps. I had successfully managed to avoid the twenty questions that were thrown at me this morning when I showed up to work this morning, glaring at everybody as I shoved my bag under the front desk and locked myself in the locker room to clean. I don't want to talk to anybody right now and if they were smart enough they would know to leave me alone.

But of course they won't. Especially not Annie as she stands behind me, her arms folded across her chest, a look of irritation on her face. I scowl at her before turning back to the toilet. Annie clears her throat but I ignore her, grabbing the scrubber and continue with cleaning the base of the toilet. The sound of her foot tapping seems to grow louder with each passing second, only increasing the pain in my head. I swear if she doesn't stop soon I'm going to throw the scrubber at her head.

It continues. Louder, louder, louder. Echoing of the walls and the tile. Louder, louder. "Will you stop that!?" I say loudly, turning to face Annie.  
She quickly recovers from my outburst, her green eyes glaring at me. "What is wrong with you today? You're so moody." she says.

I glare at her. "It's none of your business." I snap. "Just go away."

"Wow. Do you need a Midol?"

My hands ball into fists again. "Go. Away."

Her brow furrows, her arms falling limply at her sides. "There's something wrong isn't there?" she says quietly as I try not to roll my eyes. She's a quick one.

She notices my expression and gives me a look. "I mean something serious. Right?"

My eyes drop to the floor. "Just stop asking me questions." I say.

"What's wrong?" she asks in concern.

"Nothing is wrong!" I snap. "Just stop talking."

She shakes her head. "I can help you." she suggests softly.

"I'm not going to talk about it so you might as well save your breath." I grumble.

She huffs. "If you're not going to tell me than I'm going to make you tell someone else. It's obvious you need to talk about it." she says.

"No. I don't." I snap, my glare back. "Just leave it alone. I'm serious."

She gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Yes you do." A sly smile creeps onto her face, her eyes sparkling. "I know just the person!" she says excitedly.

"I swear to God if you tell Finnick that-"

"I'm not talking about Finnick." she says as she turns from me to leave the musty room.

"I'm not going to talk about it!" I shout at her retreating figure.

"Yes you are!"

The door slams behind her and I flinch at the sound. I glare at it, hoping that in some way it will penetrate the door and hit Annie. That would be the one good thing to happen today. I almost scoff at how stupid I sound. Either way, no matter what she says, I'm not talking about it to anyone. I don't care who it is.

I peel off my gloves, tossing them aside. My whole body seems to ache and I want nothing more than to lie down and rest. Resting my head against my hands, I try to calm myself. For some reason I feel like I've been running for hours on end, a marathon that won't stop. My heart beats rapidly as sweat collects on my brow. The air is stifling, closing in around me, pressing against my chest. I take a shaky breath, astounded at how completely stupid I'm acting. My cheeks flare in anger at myself. My fists clench together.

I continue to sit on the floor with my eyes shut tightly. My head still pounds to the point where I can feel it in my ears. I sigh angrily as a certain blond haired boy pops into my head. _Oh, how convenient, _I think bitterly. _Perfect time to make an appearance, Peeta._ I haven't seen him since I arrived at work and I would prefer to keep it that way. Because I know without a doubt that those _horrible_ blue eyes would get me talking without even trying which is something I don't want. So as long as he stays away, it's for the better.

The door screeches open, causing me to flinch again. I _hate_ that thing. My shoulders tense as I wait for Annie to start ranting to me about my feelings. I don't even have to open my eyes to sense that she's glaring at me, so it surprises me when I sense her crouch down before me. The air seems to have taken on a lighter quality and I resist the urge to open my eyes in curiosity. Annie is oddly quiet.

I feel warm hands gently grab my wrists, slowly pulling them away from my face. The grip is gentle yet firm and the smell of cinnamon and dill invades the area. My body tenses for a completely different reason now. _Please, please, don't let it be him. Why is he even in the ladies locker room? _"Katniss?" He asks gently and just the sound of his voice causes my resolve to slip. Slowly, cautiously, I open my eyes. Bright blue eyes stare back at me in concern. My breath catches and with one deep sigh I realize I'm already defeated.

_You've got to be kidding me. _

* * *

**And thus concludes chapter 10. Exciting, I know. **

**Once again, I'm really sorry for the wait. **

**So, let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading! :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN* Hi! Well...first things first... I'm so super sorry for the super long wait! I feel like a complete butt head. I wouldn't be surprised if ya'll forgot about the story. School has been a rather bothersome thing at the moment so I don't get a lot of time to write anymore. :(**

**But I have the long awaited update now! YAY! Unfortunitly, it's kind of short but its better than nothing. :( Boo... **

**Oh! And wow, thank you all so much for the reviews! I've almost made it to 400... thats incredible! You guys are absolutly fan-freakin-tastic. :D :D **

**Anyway, read on... :D **

_**IMPORTANT NOTE! **_** Just so you all know, I have now combined chapters 11 and 12 together. They were both fairly short and went together kind of as a two part. So what was chapter 12 is now in chapter 11. I just wanted to let you know so there was no confusion. **

**But now, I'm almost done with the actual chapter 12 so that should be up soon. :) **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. **

* * *

Chapter 11

Ever since my father died I've learned that things never seem to go as I wished they would. Not even something as simple as going to bed at a decent time. Even though I've grown used to it, I still can't help but get annoyed when, time after stinking time, my wishes are completely ignored. Like right now. I had really hoped that I could have gone through the whole day without seeing _his_ face. But do I get that? No, of course not. That would be too simple. So now he's here in the women's locker-room, staring at me with the ridiculous look of worry on his face. He really just needs to go away.

The feeling of his hands gently wrapped around my wrists seems to burn. I keep my eyes on the wet tiles, staring at the layer of dirt that covers it. My resolve has already slipped enough with just the knowledge that he's watching me. Silently berating myself for being so stupid, I muster the biggest glare I can and finally look at him. And, of course, it doesn't faze him one bit. His blue eyes watch me intently, his brow furrowed with worry. My glare wavers but I manage to keep it steady. The sooner he realizes I don't want him here, the better.

"What?" I snap.

He smiles gently at me. "Would you like to help me bake?"

My mouth falls open slightly. That was honestly the last thing I expected him to say. I figured Annie had probably forced him in here to get me talking about my feelings. I can feel my cheeks heat up in anger at her. She really just can't keep to herself, can she? I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about the fact that my little sister is going to be taken away from me or the fact that my mother is so incompetent that she won't even try to stop it. Nobody has a right to know how messed up my life is. It's none of their business and they shouldn't expect me to just open up to them like I've known them my whole life. I didn't even want to know them in the first place. If it wasn't for the fact that I needed the money, I wouldn't have to worry about this.

The sound of Peeta shift slight draws me back to the present. My fists are clenched at my sides, my glare only increasing. "Annie tell you to ask me?" I say harshly.

"Not exactly." He says calmly. My eyes narrow even more. "She did want me to talk to you," He explains, "but the baking was my idea. I was already baking when she got me. And besides, we don't even have to talk. It well help you get away from her nagging, though, which I'm sure she's been doing." He says with a light laugh.

I pause, watching him cautiously. I don't doubt that he wouldn't push to get me to talk, but that doesn't mean that I still don't trust myself around him. He still has that way of getting me to talk without even doing anything. No, it was probably be best if he just left me alone. Right now. "I have work I have to do." I say coldly.

As his hands wrap tighter around my wrists, my eyes dart to the sight. He needs to stop or I'm going to completely lose it. Slowly, his hands slid from my wrists to gently grip my hands. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to block out the warmth that seems to flow through me. Briefly, I consider yanking my hands out of his, but I can feel my exhaustion creeping up on me, leaving me too tired to even bother.

I manage to keep my vision on the floor, away from those pleading blue eyes. When Peeta moves to stand, I surprise both of us by gripping tightly on his hands. He pauses, before standing completely. I look up at him in confusion, my hands still in his. He gives me small smile before pulling me to my feet.

Wordlessly, he leads me out of the locker rooms. As the bright lights from outside falls on us, I wince. I was in that musty room for too long. Trying to ignore the pain in my head, I let Peeta lead me to the stairs, ignoring Finnick's curious gaze. A flash of brown hair catches my attention and I turn to see Annie smiling triumphantly at me. I glare at her before looking back at Peeta.

He leads me up the stairs into Haymitch's large living room and my eyes widen. It's clean. Not just clean, but spotless. The beer bottles and trash has all been picked up, leaving the floor empty from any hazards of breaking your neck. A pile of nearly folded pillows and blankets sits on the armrest of the couch, no doubt Peeta's.

It isn't until Peeta lightly tugs on my hand that I realize that I stopped in the middle of the room, my mouth open as I openly stare at the clean area. He chuckles softly. "I know it's a little cleaner than before, but I couldn't stand sleeping here and not knowing what else was sleeping under the layer of garbage."

"You cleaned this?" I ask.

"Did you think Haymitch did?" he asks with a small smirk.

I look around again. "Okay, I should have realized that one." I say lamely as I raise a hand to my head in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain.

Peeta's brow furrows. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I give him a look. "No, Annie just bugged you to talk to me for no reason." I say as my anger slowly returns. It's still shocking how quickly he can calm me down.

His mouth twitches up into an amused smile that's obvious he's trying to hide. "Fair enough." he says simply, tugging on my hand again as he leads me down the hall. I scowl at him but don't resist as he pushes me into the kitchen. My mouth falls open once again.

Aside from Peeta's baking supplies scattered across the counter, it's spotless. There's no plate with unknown substances on them and the sink it's piled high with dirty dishes. It actually looks clean, almost new. I look at Peeta in amazement. I hadn't thought anyone could have made that mess go away. Not without bombing the area and then rebuilding it.

Peeta let's go of my hand, walking over to a bowl on the counter. I watch him silently as I stand awkwardly in the doorway, twisting my braid around in my fingers. He looks back at me once he notices I haven't moved. "Come here." he says with a wave of his hand.

I walk over to him, eyeing the different ingredients and measuring tools and right away I realize I have no idea what to do with any of it. "Can I just watch?" I ask.

Peeta laughs lightly. "Fine, but you have to help later." I nod, already trying to think of an excuse for when later arrives.

As it turns out, Peeta is an expert at baking. He doesn't even need to use recipes, he has them all memorized. I guess I shouldn't be surprised though. He works at a bakery so I'm sure he's probably made these recipes more time than I could ever know. He's fast, too. It only takes him a few minutes and the batter is already finished.

He quickly whips out another bowl and adds flour into it before sprinkling some on the counter an spreading it around. I raise an eyebrow at him but he just chuckles and continues mixing. "What are you backing?" I ask finally.

He gestures to the bowl he set aside with the cream colored batter. "That's going to be a vanilla cake, an this," he says, pointing at the bowl with flour in it, "is going to be bread."

"That's a lot of baking..." I say as I eye the bowls.

"I was getting tired of sitting around." He says with a shrug.

I lean against the counter, my arms folded across my chest. I continue to watch Peeta in silence as he mixes ingredients. He starts to hum a light tune, a small smile on his face. Slowly, I can feel myself relaxing. My headache is still as bad as ever, but I can finally feel the weight that had settled in the pit of my stomach dissipate. My eyes close as I listen. I try to push all of the events from the past few days away as far as they can go. It's nice to have a distraction for once.

With my eyes still closed, I start to hum along with Peeta. It's on old song, one that my father used to sing to me and Prim when we were young. I smile slightly at the memory, happy that for once, thinking of my father doesn't leave me with an aching whole in my chest. Surprised that I don't even feel any of the frustration or sadness that I've been feeling when I think of Prim, I open my mouth to sing. It's quite, my voice rusty. It's the first time I've really sung since my father's death.

An odd sort of elation spread though me as the song continues. I momentarily forget about the boy standing next to me. I just sing, and sing, and sing. My smile widens as my voice grows louder. I had forgotten how much I loved singing. So many memories rush through me and I savor the feeling that I know won't last. It's been too long.

As the song fades away, the happiness fades with it. The room is quite, too quite. I peak open my eyes only to find Peeta staring at me in what appears to be awe. My smile disappears as I blush crimson, my eyes darting to the floor. Either I'm really out of practice, or my voice is better than I remember it being. I highly doubt it's the latter, though. Twisting my braid around, I continue to stare at the floor as my cheeks continue to burn.

If it weren't for the fact that I'm extremely embarrassed I would probably be glaring at him after I yell at him to close his mouth. I clench my jaw as I try to think of something to say. Fortunately, I don't have to think long, for Peeta awkwardly clears his throat. Gathering enough courage to meet his eyes, I look up. His blue eyes shine in the dim lighting, a crooked smile on his lips. In any other situation, I would have laughed at how ridiculous he looks.

"That...that was really good." he stumbles quietly.

My cheeks heat up even more, my eyes darting back to the floor. "Thanks." I mumble.

Peeta awkwardly turns back to his bowl and continues to mix, a strange little crease forming between his eyebrows as he works. As my eyes cautiously drift up, I let out a silence sigh of relief to see he's not looking at me. A sudden fascination over comes me when I spot his eyelashes. They're a light blonde color that's so light they're barely noticeable an so long it's a wonder that they don't tangle every time he blinks. I blush, silently berating myself for noticing or caring about something so stupid as eyelashes.

"Do you want to put the cake in the oven?" Peeta asks.

"Sure." I grab the cake and gently place it in the oven. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes." Peeta answers.

I set the alarm on the oven then walk back to Peeta, crossing my arms back over my chest. By that time, he already has the dough for the bread lying in a clumpy heap on counter. With well-practiced ease, Peeta begins folding the dough, spreading it with flour as he goes.

As the time goes by, Peeta makes small talk about simples things like the weather, how frustrating it was to clean the kitchen, how his father taught him to bake. "When I was little I used to sit on the counter while he baked." He says, "He would always tell me stories or different techniques to pass the time. Those were always my favorite moments. No brothers bothering me and no mother to yell at me constantly." He smiles sadly at me, the blue in his eyes not as bright as they usually are.

"They taking Prim away." I blurt out. My eyes widen in surprise, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. Really? Can I be that stupid? Quickly, I turn away, hoping beyond hope that he didn't hear me. Although I honestly don't see how he couldn't have, I practically shouted it.

I bite my lip, risking a glance. He's staring at me in shock, obviously confused by my outbursts. Blushing for the hundredth time today, I try to pass it of as nothing. It doesn't work. "What?" Peeta finally says after a long pause. "Who's taking Prim?"

Before I can stop myself I answer, much to my horror. "The Chicago Community Home."

Recognition flashes across his face. "Why?" he asks.

Suddenly I can feel my anger rising. "My mother forgot how to be a mother." I say through clenched teeth. "She forgot to take care of us after my father died and now all she does is sleep, never leaving her room. It's pathetic." I say. "When that stupid peacock lady just shows up all of the sudden saying that she's going to take her youngest daughter away, to possibly get adopted, she doesn't even do anything!"

"Are you guys okay? How are feeding yourselves?" he asks in concern.

"I go out into the woods and hunt. I work here and try to save as much money as I can. That's how we get by. And it was working for the past year until some neighbor turned us in!" I can feel angry tears forming in my eyes. Peeta stays silent, waiting for me to continue. "I took over a head of the house. I did all of this so Prim _wouldn't_ get taken away to that stupid place! I failed the one thing I've been trying to accomplish since dad died! I hate this so much!"

The years fall now and I hastily wipe them away. My anger starts to fade as a wave of sadness rushes through me. More tears fall as I slowly sink to the floor. There's has to be something I could have done to avoid this! I could have taken more precautions! I could have forced mom to do something! But it's too late now. I can't do anything.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my back pressed firmly against the lower cabinets almost to the point of pain. Holding my head in my hands, I try to stop my tears, my throat tightening. I can't do this. I can't do this this at all. I grab a fist full of hair, hoping that the pain with stop the sorrow and frustration. All I want to do it scream at the top of my lungs.

A pair of warm arms wrap around me, strong and steady, pulling me closer. I had almost forgotten about Peeta. Completely forgetting all thoughts of pride, I greatly accept his open arms, wrapping my own around his neck. In other situations I wouldn't even dare doing this. I know I should be angry and yet I can't find the strength to. There's just something about Peeta that crumples ever wall I've ever created with one simple touch or glance, and as much as I hate it, I can't help but be grateful at the same time.

He continues to hold me as I cry, whispering comforting words in my ear. My grip on him tightens, as I'd he's the only thing holding me together, and maybe he is. The aching in my chest dissipates slightly. I almost feel like I can breathe again. Burying my face into the crook of his neck, I finally let out everything I've been trying to hide from Prim.

Eventually my tears run out, and I'm left exhausted. Neither of us pulls away, content to just sit on Haymitche's floor. Shocked, I realize that I don't even mind. I would be happy to stay like this for the rest of the day. I almost laugh at loud at how, even to myself, my thoughts sound completely...strange. Vaguely, I wonder if I should be pushing him away.

As it turns out, I don't have to. Peeta gently pulls away from me slightly; just enough so he can look at me, his eyes searching mine. I try to smile, but it only comes out like a grimace. Even after just bawling my eyes out, I'm surprised to feel so light. It's like I'm watching everything as a dream, lucid and foggy. I had really thought I had gotten over the whole, 'going crazy' thing... I guess not.

"You okay?" Peeta asks quietly as he brushes my hair away. I manage a nod. "I'm sorry about everything, Katniss."

I shrug lightly, apparently losing the ability to speak. I blame it on that ridiculous look of concern on Peeta's face. Biting my lip, I advert my gaze.

"Your so brave, Katniss." he say as if in a daze. "If I was half as brave as you, I wouldn't still be living at home." I don't respond, just stare at the tiles. Peeta gently lifts my chin so I can look at him. "Don't blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault, you couldn't have done anything about it. I don't know all the details, but I know that your strong, and you'll get through this." he says with such sincerity that I can do nothing but stare.

An odd tension seems to build in the air. I'm acutely aware of my arms still around his neck, his arms wrapped around my waist. My skin seems to tingle, a rush of heat spreading through me. I want to move but I can't seem to break my eyes away from his. As if on cue, we both lean closer to each other. My breathing stops as time seems to slow into agonizing seconds. Our lips brush, eliciting a shudder to run down my spine. _Oh dear... _

Before our lips can move any closer, we jump apart, my heart nearly stopping as the timer to the oven blares. Peeta chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Cakes done."

* * *

As Peeta takes out the cake, I continue to sit on the floor, my mind a complete tangle of emotions. I stare at the tile as I try to comprehend what just happened. A whirl of disappointment and anger spreads through me. That stupid timer! If it would have gone off just a minute later! Could it have been any more inconvenient? My eyes drift over to the oven as I glare at it. _Perfect timing, you stupid hunk of metal._

Shock quickly fallows as I realize that I actually wanted that to happen. A bitter laugh threatens to occur. Oh my God... I'm completely insane. It is now official. There's no point in arguing about that fact considering my mind is enough evidence. I guess it's a good thing I don't have to see a psychiatrist. I'd end up in a mental institution. Then again, maybe they would just contribute my mental state to normal teenage girl issues and mood swings. Although, I think I gave up being a normal teenager around a year ago, when I had to become the adult to keep myself alive. Maybe that's part of the reason...

My hand unconsciously drifts over my lips, an odd tingling sensation covering them. My cheeks flush as an uncomfortable heat spreads over them. I close my eyes as the feeling of Peeta's lips brushing over mine reoccurs. My lungs feel as if all air has been vacuumed out of them, leaving me completely breathless. _So that's what a kiss feels like._ An incredible feeling of need fills me and, if I'm being completely honest, I'm not all that surprised that it's for the feel of his lips on mine again.

What does surprise me is that, strangely, I'm not angry. Well except for at that freaking buzzer. I hate that thing. I should be mad, though. This cannot end well and I know that. It's foolish to think that it could. I don't have time for... anything like that. I still have responsibilities that I need to worry about. Like having a house to live in. And food in my stomach. Not to mention my mother to care for. Even besides all of that, love or anything of that nature is just destined to be a disaster. It's heartbreak waiting to happen. I'm not going to risk turning into my mother. Not for anything.

Turning myself over to an emotion as strong as love is like handing over my mind on a platter for the lions to enjoy. Its motto is heart over mind, but the flaw in that motto is the fact that the heart is a fickle and conceiving organ that takes pleasure in the pain it can cause. It's the dictator of the body that doesn't have any problem whatsoever in controlling all rational thought. That, and that alone, is enough reason why _not_ to mess with matters of the heart. So to speak. I just can't. Not when I've seen the outcome of what it can do to a person.

My hand drops limply at my side. The tingling in my lips hasn't resided yet and frankly I don't really want it to. I might as well enjoy this while it lasts, right? My eyes drift over to see Peeta still facing away from me, his hands gripping the counter tightly with his head bowed. The sleeves of his blue shirt are rolled up to his elbows, flower dusting his arms in odd places. Through his shirt I can see the rigidness of the muscles in his back, his tense posture. Guilt washes through me suddenly, my gaze dropping back to the floor pathetically. I should say something but my throat feels dry.

A hollow ache spreads through me as I think of what all of this will mean for me. I will go through my life alone. Eventually Prim will move out and I'm sure I won't be staying longer than necessary after that. My mother will just have to figure out to live on her own, that's the least she could do for the both of us. Although I know that it's the most practical thing to do, I can feel my chest ache at the thought of never having anyone to myself. I'll just have to remind myself that it's for the best. It's practical. It makes sense. It's safe.

I think of Peeta. I think of how, in the short amount of time that I've known him, that I've already learned to trust him. Whether I want to admit it or not, he's managed to break every defense that I've spent that last year building. He's worked his way into my life without even trying. It scares me more than I would like to admit. It's dangerous and yet I can't help but feel grateful for his presence. For his comforting words and smile and that ridiculous way that he is always concerned for everyone else rather than himself. It's annoying, but it suits him.

My body freezes suddenly as I think of how my plan to stay as far away from love will mean that I'll have to stay far away from Peeta. Because I know that if I'm going to stick to this plan, Peeta will be my downfall. There's no way I'd be able to follow if it he is around. Once again, I almost laugh out loud when I realize, with bitter irony, that Peeta is both my strength and my weakness. He manages to hold me together when I need it the most, but he also tears down my defenses.

My throat tightens. The thought of leaving Peeta strikes an unfamiliar feeling of dread in my chest. The flame that I have kept hidden inside me for weeks now sparks as I finally admit that, against my better judgment, I want him in my life. Fear spreads through me as tears gather in my eyes because I know there is no possible way that the fact that one boy can cause such emotions in me can be a good thing. That's a dangerous road to be on. It's like marching onto the battlefield with no weapon. It's the lion's den.

I can feel my resolve start to crumble. An awful nagging in the back of my mind keeps telling me that I don't care if it's the lion's den. That really, I could care less if my heart and mind got mauled if it meant that I could have Peeta with me. But that's wrong. No, I can't think like that. Suddenly, I hear my father's voice, deep and melodious as I'm taken back to a different life. One where I was happy and everything was much easier. It was his favorite quote. _Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all_.

At the time, I had thought that quote was pretty. Now, it only seems like one more giant lie. But my father had quoted it all the time, always saying it at random times. It was his way of life and it was my mother's pain that originated from it. There has to be some truth to it though, right? My father wasn't stupid. There had to have been some true meaning to it otherwise he wouldn't have said it all the time.

I shake my head because it doesn't matter if it's true or not. Love is not in my future so it's pointless to think about it. But still, the ache in my chest remains. Tears still threaten to spill as I think of Peeta and how I won't be able to have him with me. It's as if the clouds have converged on me, pressing me down with a force that makes me want to scream. That nagging voice is back, telling me that it's too late. That, without my knowledge, I've already fallen. And from the feel of the ache, I've fallen hard.

My head falls into my hands. When I had accepted this job, if I had known that I would end up like this, I would have flat out refused. But of course, what choice did I have? This stupid gym was the only place that was hiring and in reality I was lucky enough to get an interview, let alone the actual job. It seems that fate was against me this whole time. Or maybe, in its mind, this was for its own pleasure. _Well I hope you're happy, fate, because you've jacked everything up!_

I look back at Peeta to see he hasn't moved yet. He still stands with his hands gripping the edge of the counter. I can't even imagine what he's thinking right now. With a blush, I remember his lips on mine, the tingle, the loss of breath. _Why did you have to do that, Peeta?_ It was so much easier just pretending that I hate you. I could have left and never looked back. At least that's what I told myself. Now I know I won't have the will power to. If you only knew how much I don't want to like you... and how much I've completely lost myself to you.

And suddenly I know what I need to do. If it's not for my sanity than just for the sake of it. A rush of excitement jolts through me, quickly followed by a wave of unease. This will probably be the biggest mistake of my life, but I think I've last the point of really caring. With unsteady legs, I slowly stand up. My hand automatically moves to my braid in a nervous jester only to find my hair fell out. I almost curse at my bad luck. Not even my hair is cooperating.

As my eyes drift back to the boy in front of me, my stomach tightens and for one awful second, I almost consider just turning around and leaving. No... I have to know. Taking a deep breath, I take one timid step towards him. Followed by another, and another. He seems so caught up in his own thoughts that I highly doubt he even knows I'm approaching him. Stopping once I stand behind him, I nervously contemplate what to do next.

I roll my eyes at myself. So this is what happens to me? I become one of those jittery girls that gets nervous around a boy they like? Not likely. I square my shoulders, my mind filled with determination. Now or never. Throwing caution to the wind, I place a deliberate hand on his arm. At my touch he tenses but doesn't turn to face me. From my position behind him, I can just barely see the side of his face to see his eyes closed tight.

"Peeta..." I say quietly. I move to his side, never taking my hand off his arm. "Peeta?"

He lets out a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I didn't mean to... I mean...I..." he stutters, shaking his head as if to clear it. His cheeks look flushed, his arms tense.

Taking a deep breath of my own, I gently pull on his arm, encouraging him to face me. He does, and when his eyes finally meet mine, the blue bright filled with such deep emotion that my breath catches, I find myself momentarily frozen. He gazes at me in apology, his cheeks tinting a brighter pink as he rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry." he says again, this time more firmly. "That was wrong of me and I shouldn't have done that."

I watch him silently, not bothering to comment on his apology, knowing that it would be pointless anyway. My stomach knots. Heat once again rises to my cheeks as I my eyes flicker to his lips. Without even realizing it, my fingers curl around the sleeve of his shirt, itching to pull him closer. I look back up at his eyes to see a shift in his expression, his eyes a darker shade than usual. As soon as it's there, it disappears, his brow furrowing.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asks. "Your cheeks are kind of red."

Leave it to Peeta. "I'm fine." I say.

"Are you sure? I can get you something if you need it-"

"Peeta, I'm fine."

He looks at me, obviously not believing what I said. After a moment he looks back down, his brow furrowed again. "I really am sorry, Katniss." he says, his voice full of guilt.

"You didn't do anything wrong." I say quietly.

"I shouldn't have allowed that to happen. It was wrong." he says as he looks up again, determined for me to understand. "I took advantage of your emotional state and-"

"What?" I ask in annoyance. "You really think you took advantage of me? Oh, come on."

He shakes his head again. "It's true."

"No it's not, and you know it." I say. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not. I'm being rational." he says calmly.

"Rational?" I ask bitterly. "Don't talk to me about rational. I know rational. I've lived it my whole life. That was just stupid."

"No, it was wrong." He insists.

"Stop saying that! It wasn't wrong, I don't care what you say but it wasn't."

"Katniss-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"No. You're being ridiculous."

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. "Well what else am I supposed to think? Ever since we met, I have no idea what you think of me. One minute we're having a good time and the next it's like you would rather have nothing to do with me! What am I supposed to think of that? I don't even know if you consider me a friend." he says. "I'm just trying to make sense of everything."

"You want to make sense of everything?" I ask. "Okay, make sense of this. Why is it that every time I'm around you I get this stupid, annoying flutter in my stomach? This annoying little pull that I feel towards you. Why is that when I want to talk to someone, your always the first one that I think of? Or why is that when I want comfort, I think of your arms around me, of your smile and no one else's? Make sense of that, because I sure as heck can't!" I yell.

He stares at me in shock, unable to find words. So I continue, my voice growing more frantic by the second. "Why is it you that I think of before I got to bed at night and first thing in the morning? Why is that you're the only one who can get me to open up without even doing anything or saying anything?" I ask. I can feel I'm making a mistake, that I really need to shut up, but I just can't. My voice grows lower as I ask the next question. "Why is it that when we barely even kissed, I felt as if I was alive again? As if, in that half a second, the world was perfect. I haven't felt like that in so long. Why?"

Tears have formed in my eyes as I spoke, frustration and desperation battling inside my head. They are so close to falling but I won't let them. Peeta just watches me in awe, his eyes disbelieving. "Katniss, I didn't-" he whispers, but I shake my head.

"I know you didn't know. I didn't even know, but that doesn't change anything." I tell him, my eyes locking with his, silently hoping that he'll understand. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't love you…but I do." I say, my voice cracking. _Oh, my God. Please lock me up._ "I've spent the last week trying to convince myself that it was all in my head, that I've been going crazy. And it scares the crap out of me…because I know that's not true."

My heart races in my chest to the point of pain. My cheeks burning more than they ever have before. The only thought my mind seems to form is, _oh my God I'm an idiot, oh my God,_ and it won't stop. It repeats, a constant mantra that races back in forth, picking up speed with each lap around my head. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks but I can't seem to understand why I'm crying. Maybe it's simply relief that I'm finally able to admit it to myself. Or maybe it's from complete embarrassment at having practically declared my love as soon as I realized it.

Even though I know I know that last option should be the most reasonable, it's not. I'm not crying from shame or embarrassment or relief. I'm crying because I know without a doubt that this can't happen. My heart has already taken over my mind and now it's going to cause us both pain when I tell him that I can't be with him. I've already planned out my future. It includes a life alone and that's it. Prim and my mother will be the only ones I care about. That's how it has to be. So no, they're not tears of relief but tears or regret.

Peeta's eyes search my face in confusion and hope, and my throat tightens. His hand reaches up to gently brush my tears away, and my eyes close on their own accord as I relish in the warmth of his touch. My grip on his sleeve tightens. I take a step closer. At the sound of his voiced whispering my name, my eyes open. His blue eyes bore into mine with an unmistakable look of adoration and suddenly I can't take it anymore.

Instantly, without any thought, my arm slips around his neck as my other hand grips his shoulder tightly, pulling his face down to mine. Our lips met, my body flooding with heat. Shocked, Peeta doesn't do anything, his arms sitting limply at his side. Realization hits, and suddenly his arms are around my waist and he's pulling me closer. Tears continue to fall but I ignore them. My heart shudders in my chest.

The kiss is bliss at its finest. My skin tingles, my mind falling hopelessly numb with each passing second. I can't get enough yet it seems perfect at the same time. His arms tighten around me, my hand burying in his curls. I want this to last forever. This feeling of paradise, a safe haven that I can hide away in and never return. Just me and Peeta. It's enchanting and frightening at the same time. Because with each touch I know that I won't be able to turn back. I'm completely lost.

And into the lion's den we plunge.

* * *

**So, I know Katniss is a bit out of character here but you have to understand that she's basically going through an emotional breakdown. She keeps everything bottled up and then 'boom!', everything comes rushing at one time. So... I hope that doesn't bother anyone. **

**Let me know what you think! And again, really, really sorry for the wait. **

_**Incase you didnt read the important note at the beggining, I just wanted to say again that chapters 11 and 12 have now been combined into one. :) **_

**Happy New Year! **


	12. Chapter 12

**AN* Hellooo everybody! I've got the next chapter for ya! Fun stuff, I know. :)**

**I have a full length chapter for you guys, finally! YES! This has actually been one of my favorite chapters that I've written so far. Hopefully, you guys will feel the same way when you read it... :/ **

**Also, in case you haven't noticed, I put the old chapter 12 into chapter 11 since they were both pretty short and kind of went hand in hand. So, this is now chapter 12. :)**

**Thanks to all who have reviewed. I appreciate every one, you guys really keep me going! :D Thank you sooooo much. Almost 400 reviews. I honestly cannot believe it. You are all incredible! **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. **

* * *

Chapter 12

Friday.

A suitcase sits in the entryway, a small travel bag resting against it, its pink contents almost spilling out. I make my way through the bedroom, trying to ignore the empty side of the closet, checking to make sure nothing was left behind. It's bare, the only thing left being a small layer of dust on the floor. I push back my clothes to see the same thing. With a sigh, I close the closet door, wincing at the loud screeching sound.

The car should be here around one to pick her up. We have about a half hour left until that painted peacock of a lady takes Prim away to the community home. I've walked through the house at least six times already, checking every nook and crevasse I could find, looking for anything we might have missed while packing. She didn't have much to pack to begin with. One suitcase and a travel bag was all that was needed for every single one of her possessions to fit in.

I turn around, my eyes falling on Prim's hunched over form sitting on the bed. Her hands rest in her lap, her fingers fiddling nervously. The bed creaks as I sit down next to her. My eyes roam over the room, lingering on the empty space on the dresser were Prim's small china figurine of a swan used to sit. It was a gift from our father on her eighth birthday. I only hope that she has a spot to put it in the community home. Or, if she gets adopted, in her new home.

The thought makes my stomach knot. I've tried and tried to think of a way to keep Prim from getting adopted but I can't. I still have two years until I could get legal guardianship over her and by then she could be living halfway across the country in some stranger's house. The only thing I can do now is hope and pray that she doesn't get adopted, that maybe, just maybe, no one will want a small broken girl who's lost her father and her mother abandoned. But then I realize how stupid I'm being because all people will see is a bright girl who's heart is as large as this city. Everyone will want her.

"Anything left?" Prim asks in a small voice.

"No." I say, "Not a thing."

"That's a shame."

I turn to look at her, my brow furrowed curiously. "Why?"

She looks at me, her blue eyes glassy. "Because maybe if I left something behind, I would have an excuse to come back."

I wrap my arms around her shoulders, taking a deep breath. "You know they wouldn't let you back, Prim." I say gently.

"I know...but it was a nice thought."

I chuckle lightly, despite the situation. "Always the optimist."

She lifts her head off my shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "Well it's better than being a pessimist." She says as she pokes me in the ribs.

"Hey, I am not pessimistic." I say in defense.

"Oh, sure. Of course not." She says with a giggle.

I take my arms away from her shoulders, crossing them against my chest as I give her a mock glare. "What happened to sweet, little innocent Prim?"

She giggles again before her face suddenly grows stern. "She's gone now." She says in a girlishly deep voice, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tries not to laugh.

"Really?" I ask in amusement.

She nods quickly. "Yep."

"And where did she go?"

She bites her lip. "Ummm... to the bathroom."

I snort in laughter. "Well that's too bad. I was going to give her a gift." I say, peaking at her from the corner of my eye. Her eyes widen and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing at her shock. "But I guess if she's not here-"

"She's here! I mean I'm here." She says as she practically jumps up and down on the bed.

I give out a heavy sigh of relief, my hand on my heart. "Oh good! I didn't know if you would come back. How was the bathroom?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.  
She ponders it for a second. "Clean."

"It should be." I say with a grimace. "I spent two slaving over it this morning."

She giggles again. "You've gotten very thorough ever since you started working at the gym."

"Well you kind of have to be if you ever want those disgusting bathrooms to get cleaned." I say with a frown, imagining the grim and dirt that collects like paste on the toilets in the women's locker room.

Prim nods solemnly, but she can't hide the look of excitement in her eyes. I stand up, walk over to the dresser, and pull open the top drawer. Pushing aside folded up shirts; I dig around, my fingers brushing against the rough wood at the bottom until I feel the soft silk that the gift is wrapped in. Gift in hand, I sit back on the bed and hand it to Prim. She stares at the deep blue silk in awe; gently lifting the cloth away with such delicate moves that you would think it was made out of glass.

Her eyes widen even more once the cloth is removed. Her fingers slowly glide across the gold colored pin. She looks up at me in surprise, her mouth open in shock before they return to the trinket resting on her palm. She traces the bird, the arrow then the circle that surrounds them. I smile at the joy in her eyes, glad that I had a chance to get her something before she leaves.

"Katniss...when...how?" She stammers.

"I got it at the market a couple days ago. An elderly woman was selling them on the corner. It's not pure gold of course, but I thought you would like it."

"Like it?" She asks with a short laugh. "It's absolutely gorgeous! And the mockingjay! It's daddy's favorite." She says, tears forming in her eyes.

"Yeah... I thought it was a nice reminder." I say, my eyes on the pin.

She nods, wiping away a tear from her cheek. "Can you help me put it on?"

"Of course." I take the pin from her hand, safely fastening it to her pale blue blouse. The gold shines in the dim lighting, bringing out the gold in her hair. I smile slightly. "It matches your hair." I tell her.

She smiles widely. "Thank you." Her arms wrap around my neck in a tight hug. "I don't want to go." She whispers.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I try to keep my composure. "I know, Prim. Believe me, I don't want you to go either."

She pulls away, tears running down her cheeks. "We don't have a choice though, huh?" She asks helplessly.

I look down at the pin, the bright gold shining brightly. "No," I say reluctantly, a lump forming in my throat. "we don't."

She takes a deep breath, her blue eyes pained as she stares at the white comforter. Tears fall like small raindrops onto the blanket, a silent storm. My eyes start to sting, but I manage to keep the tears from falling. I have to stay strong for Prim. She doesn't need that right now. I can't even imagine how scared she is right now. She knows there's a chance she could be adopted. That if she did, I wouldn't have enough money to visit her.

I take her small hand into mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Why don't we braid your hair before you go?"

* * *

By the time one o' clock rolls around, me and Prim are sitting on the couch, our legs bouncing up and down from our nerves. The clock ticks by like lightening yet at the same time it seems like it's not even moving... although, it would be perfectly fine with me if time forgot to move. Prim continues to shift from looking out the window and looking down the hall, hoping our mother will come out of her cave to say goodbye.

Prim had stopped by her room earlier, opening the door and peaking inside to see if she was awake. I had told her to wake her up, but she said she didn't want to disturb her and gently closed the door again. She tried to hide it from me, plastering a fake smile on her face, but I saw the hurt in her expression. Was it really so much for my mother to remember the day her daughter was being taken away? It was here fault to begin with.

My anger rises at my mother, but I bite it back. I've managed to make it this far without getting angry in front of Prim today. I'm not going to blow it now. I had already considering waking into my mother's room to wake her up myself. I would have dragged her out of bed. After everything she's done, she won't even say good bye. Prim deserves that and so much more, but she doesn't even care. It's disgusting. I don't think I've ever lost so much respect for someone as I have for our mother.

"They're here." Prim says, her eyes fallowing the black car out the window with unease.

I turn and look just in time to see the lime green suit of a Ms. Effie Trinket flouncing out of the car. She looks like a clown. I wonder if she used to work in a carnival in another life. A grimace forms as she walks up the stairs towards the porch. She trips on whole in one of the boards, the heel of her high heels caught causing a yelp of surprise out of her painted mouth. Prim snorts in laughter, burying her face in the top of the couch to quite her giggles.

A sad smile crosses my lips as I watch her. I'm going to miss her silly moments like this. It still amazes me that she can laugh in a situation like this. I return my attention to Effie. A large man in a black suit exits the car, rushing to her side to help. Once her heel pops out of the hole, she straightens her suit awkwardly, her mouth set in a tight line. I can't help the satisfied grin that forms on my face at her disheveled appearance. Or that stray lock of hair that's flopped on top of her head. What a peacock.

A knock echoes on the door. Prim and I climb off the couch, both of us reluctantly walking into the entryway. As I open the door I catch Prim peeking around the cormorant, into the hall. Before I can even turn to face the two people outside, they're pushing their way inside. I quickly back out of the way before I get trampled, pulling Prim close to my side.

"Hello, dears!" Effie says enthusiastically, clapping her hands together.

I scowl at her, my hands balking into fists. She's been here five seconds and I already want to punch her. "Oh, do come in!" I say sarcastically.

"Thank you, that's very kind." She responds happily. "Hello, Primrose. Are you excited?"

Prim shuffles on her feet, her eyes on the floor. "Not really."

"Oh." Effie says. "Well...no matter. Once you see the community home, I'm sure it will change your mind."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I doubt that."

Effie sighs. "Katniss, I know you don't agree with this, but its for the better."

"Like you would know." I say in anger, my eyes narrowed.

"Yes, well I think I would. It's my job."

My jaw clenches and it takes every ounce of my will not to throw her out the door, lock and then dead bolt it. "Right." I say through clenched teeth.

She smiles at me in triumph. "Good. Now, since all the paper work has been completed, there's nothing left for us to do but take Prim to her new home." She says brightly. "This is exciting, is it not?"

"A joy." I deadpan. I seriously wish I could slap the clown makeup off her face.

"That's the spirit!" She exclaims. I glare at her. She's either extremely ignorant or completely stupid.

She turns to Prim, bending over to see her better. "Are you ready, Prim?"

"Yes, I think so." She answers, glancing up at me to check. With my nod she swallows, looks back at Effie and says, "I'm ready."

"Wonderful. Katniss," Effie says, straightening up, "you can visit Prim anytime of the week as long as it's past four o'clock and you leave by six. On Sunday you can stay until seven. Those are our visiting hours so you won't be able to see her any other time."

"Okay." I say, nodding in understanding.

"But Katniss, you usually work the night shift." Prim says, her eyes wide.

"I know. I'll just have to talk to Haymitch. Maybe he'll let me work in the morning from now on." I saw as I squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. "Hopefully."

"You know Katniss," Effie says, "now would be a great time for you to go back to school. You could still go to work in the evenings and have time to finish your homework. Then maybe you could consider college and that would help you get a better job than at the gym."

"I wouldn't have any time to see Prim if I did that." I say, almost scoffing at the suggestion.

"She's right, though." Prim says, a sad smile on her lips. "I'm thirteen. I can handle myself in the community home. You don't have to come see me every day or even every week."

"Prim-" I start but she cuts me off.

"You should go back to school. You've already given up so much to help me and now I think it's my turn to help you." She says. "Maybe this whole thing happened for a reason. So you could go back to school and go to college."

"If anyone is going to college it's you. You already know what you want to do. You've wanted to be a doctor since you knew what the word meant." I say. "We don't even have enough money for it, anyway. And I'll be fine without high school. We've made it this far and it seems to be working...somewhat."

"I know but... don't you want to get a better job? Maybe not now, but I'm sure that you're not going to want to work there for the rest of your life." Prim says, folding her arms across her chest.

"As long as I get paid, I don't care what the job is."

Prim throws her arms up in the air in exasperation. "You're so stubborn!"

Effie, who was watching the whole exchange with a raised brow, decides to cut in. "I know you hate me, Katniss, and probably won't listen to any thing I say but... just think about whether you want to go through the rest of your life surviving, like you have been, or if you want to thrive and explore and do all the things you can't do now. You don't strike me as the type of girl to just 'get by' in life." She says, her eyes sincere.

I just stand there, unsure of what to say. As much as I don't want to admit it, I know she's right. I hate spending all of my time just trying to make sure our house doesn't fall apart and we have food in our cabinets. But I don't have much of a choice. Even now that Prim is leaving, I still won't have time for school. I'll still have my mother to look after, I'll still have work and I'll still need to go hunting. I won't have any time for class or homework.

And with Prim in the community home, I'm not going to give up anytime I can see her. Not when there's a large chance she can get adopted. It's not realistic to think about. So, even though I know that I will most likely spend the rest of my days cleaning toilets, I just have to suck it up and deal with it.

"Well," Effie says, pulling me from my thoughts. "I suppose it's time we should go. Is this your stuff, Prim?" She asks, pointing to the suitcase and travel bag in the corner. Prim nods reluctantly. "Great. Can you take those to the car, Mr. Boggs?"

I had almost forgotten the man standing quietly behind Effie. He looks about the same age that my dad would be. He's shorter though, his hair a lighter color, but he has the same kind eyes that my father had. He definitely looks like he could haul a car if he needed to. I watch silently as he picks up Prim's stuff, giving us both a slight nod before he exits the house.

"He seems nice." Prim mumbles. "Kinda quiet, though."

"He's a good man." Effie agrees. She looks between me and Prim awkwardly. "I... I'll give you ladies a moment alone. I'll be outside." She says before shuffling out the door.

Once the door is closed, I crouch down in front of Prim, my hands on her shoulders. "If any of the kids there give you any trouble, just let me know, okay?" I say sternly.

Prim rolls her eyes. "I know."

"And stay away from the trouble makers."

"I will."

"Behave and don't talk back to any other of the workers there, alright?"

She sighs in exasperation. "I know, I know."

I watch her for a moment as she fiddles with one of her braids. Her eyes are filled with uncertainty, her brow furrowed in what appears to be worry. "It's going to be okay, Prim." I tell her gently.

"I know." She says as she attempts a smile.

"Hopefully Haymitch will let me off early tomorrow so I can visit and make sure you settled in alright. Sound good?" I ask.

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Good. Well... be safe, Prim." I say as I wrap my arms around her. She buries her face in my shoulder, her arms squeezing me hard.

"Thank you for the pin." She whispers.

"You're welcome." I say, tears stinging my eyes.

I pull away to see tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes dart over to the hall, only to find it empty. She gives out a shuddered sigh, her eyes on the floor.

"Tell Ma I love her." She whispers brokenly.

My throat tightens. "I will. I promise."

She hesitates a minute. "Do you think she'll come and visit me, too?"

I sigh, wishing so much that I could tell her that she will... but I would be lying. I don't think I could break her heart more than she already is by giving her false hope. "I don't know, Prim. I hope so."

"I don't want it to be the last time I see her." She says, her voice catching.

Well... I don't have anything good to say about that. She's probably right. So instead, I just nod, pulling her into another quick hug. "I can wake her up if you want." I offer weakly.

She shakes her head. "No, she needs her rest." Her arms fall limply to her side as she glances at the door. "I guess I should go now."

"Alright." I say as I stand up. As she turns around, I spot her shirt untucked from her skirt. "Tuck in your tail, little duck." I tell her.

She gives out a small giggle through her tears as I fix her shirt. "Quake"

She opens the door, causing pale light to flood through the dark entryway. Effie stands on the porch, a huge smile consuming her painted face. I wonder if she realizes how much she sticks out in our faded neighborhood. She probably doesn't. She doesn't strike me as someone who would notice that kind of thing. Hopelessly oblivious. I still hate her, though.

I follow Prim out onto the porch. She gives a quick, worried glance at the car before motioning for me to bend down so she can whisper in my ear. "I'm nervous," She says quietly, as if she's talking about a forbidden secret that shouldn't ever be spoken of. "Of the car." She clarifies, sensing my confusion.

I give it a quick glance. The windows are tinted a dark black, the paint shining. "Why? It looks okay to me."

"I haven't ridden in one in a long time." She says. "We always use the subway and even when we lived in Carolina, I didn't ride in the car that much."

"Oh." I say, slightly shocked. She's right, though. Her experience with cars is rather minimal. "Well... if it makes you feel better, just know that it rides a lot smoother than the subway. By a lot."

"Really?"

"Definitely. It'll feel like your royalty."

She pulls away, straightening out her shoulders. "Okay." She says, giving me a confident, if not watery, smile.

"Come on, Primrose!" Effie calls from her spot by the car. "Time to go now."

Prim looks up at me through blurry eyes. "I love you, Katniss." She whispers.

My chest tightens once again, but I manage a smile for her. "I love you too, little duck." I say as I tap her nose.

I watch silently as she carefully climbs down the rickety steps towards the car, her faded white skirt swishing around her knees with each step. A broken smile grows on my face as I watch her braided pigtails swing back and forth. My arms cross against my chest in an attempt to cover the dull ache that's formed.

As she climbs into the back seat, she waves, wiping a tear away with the other hand. I wave back, my hand falling back to my side as the door closes and the tinted windows block my view. The car drives away, the shinning black of the paint reflecting the sunlight brightly. I sit down on the splintered wood, letting my legs dangle over the side as the vehicle disappears down the road.

A deep sigh escapes my lips. Now that Prim is gone all of the emotions that I was trying to hide this morning seem to boil over. Guilt eats away at me. I shouldn't even be sitting here, watching the car take my sister away. Prim shouldn't even be going there. I should have taken more precautions or done something. Maybe I could have forced mom to get up, forced her to do something.

A bitter laugh bubbles up inside me. Even as I think that, I know it would have been impossible. If she wouldn't even get out of bed to say good bye to her youngest daughter than I doubt she would have done anything else. She's a sorry excuse for a mother. My hands ball into fists in my lap, my knuckles turning white. Angry tears form in my eyes. Doesn't she care about us at all? Apparently not otherwise she wouldn't have practically left us to starve. I wonder if she even thinks of us as family or more as her personal servants.

I stare out over the dead grass in the lawn, the bare patches that litter the area. It looks just like every other house in this stupid neighborhood; barren and deserted. The only difference is the lack of old furniture and toys scattered on the lawn. I can't even remember the last time my mother went outside. She'd probably be blinded by the sun if she tried to venture out now.

As I sit on the porch, time slowly ticks by. Clouds pass, birds fly, yet I sit in the same spot, staring at nothing and looking at everything. The air begins to chill as night sets in, causing goose bumps to form in my arms, but I barely notice. The sun slowly glides across the light blue sky, daylight following closely behind it. I'm avoiding going inside, I know that, but I know that eventually I'll have to. I still have work tonight along with some things I need to get done inside.

I don't want to go inside, though. To the silence and emptiness that fills the house. It's going to feel like a tomb in there without Prim's constant chatter and giggles. I don't want to have to look at my mother's bedroom door, closed like it always is, with her holed up in the inside lost in her own mind. I wonder if she'll even notice that it will be me that will feed her tonight instead of Prim.

Eventually, I get up, my legs stiff and my back aching. Inside, I ignore the silence, instead focusing on the things I need to get done before work. I remember the pile of laundry in the bedroom and decide that now is a good time for a trip to the Laundromat. A gather up the clothes into a large sack, tightening the stings on the top tightly. Silently preparing myself, I head for the room down the hall, pausing in shock when I see the door open and the room empty.

My brow furrows and I do a double cheek to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. The curtains are drawn, the room dark. Sure enough, it's empty, the sheets on her bed tossed back and crumpled. My cheeks flush in anger. If she chose now, of all times, to drag herself out of bed I swear...

My thoughts are cut off, my head snapping to the side, as a loud crashing sound echoes from the kitchen. I drop the sack onto the floor, following the noise, my hands balled into fists. My anger rises as I round the corner. There, standing by the stove, fiddling with a coffee cup, is my mother. Her back is to me, her blond hair matted on one side of her head. My eyes narrow as I watch her hand shakily place a tea bag into the cup.

The light catches on something on the floor and I look down. Shards of a shatter blue coffee cup are scattered across the wood floor. I recognize it as one my father gave to her on their anniversary a few years back. I look back at my mother. She continues to mess with her cup, shaking fingers loosely grasping the handle. My hands are balled so tightly, I can feel my nails digging into my skin.

Finally, she turns around. Her eyes are shiny, but that same hollow stare still remains. She looks brokenly at the glass on the floor. Carefully, cautiously, she bends down; gently touching the shards as if too much pressure would cause them to shatter all over again. Angry tears once again fill my eyes, my throat dry, but I can't find the will to say anything.

After a moment, she stands again with tears in her eyes. She looks up, noticing me for the first time as I stand in the doorway. For a moment all she can do is stare. My jaw clenches. Then, with the nervous of a small child who's been caught doing something bad, she gesture to the glass on the floor. "Careful. I broke something." She says quietly, unable to meet my eyes.

"Oh, would that be your youngest daughter's heart?" I spit at her, my eyes narrowed.

She flinches. "Maybe you could grab something to sweep it up..." she says weakly, as if she didn't hear me.

"Just stop!" I yell. "Stop pretending that you didn't screw up! You're a selfish woman. How could you not even say goodbye to Prim?"

"I couldn't-" she protest weakly, but I cut her off.

"Yes you could, but you were too busy wallowing in self-pity to do anything." I say, "You were perfectly fine with never seeing your daughter again. As long as it saved you some pain, then why not! Prim cried because she was afraid that it would be the last time she saw you! And you know, she's probably right. You'll never go see her."

"Yes, I will." She says, tears streaming down her face.

"No you won't, and you know it! She'll get adopted, get shipped off to some strange family and then that's it. You'll never see her grow up, get married, have kids, and you don't even care. And why should you? You don't even know her anymore. When was the last time you actually talked to her? Asked her how she was or told her you loved her?"

"I- I don't know." She whispers between broken sobs.

"Exactly. And still, by some unspoken miracle, she still loves you. With all of her heart. She practically idolizes you, but you don't even notice. You push her aside like she's some stranger on the street." I say, my voice breaking with sudden emotion. "How could you do that to your own kids? Are you that heartless?"

By now, she's sunken to the floor, her nightgown spread around her. Tears flow down her face like a river, loud broken sobs escaping her chest. Her body shakes, her skin pale. Tears fall from my own eyes, whether from hate or grief, I'm not sure. My throat feels so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if I pass out from lake of air. A shiver runs through me.

"All you had to do was deal with it like the rest of us." I say in a shaky whisper, unsure if she can even hear me through her own sobs. "You're not the only one who's lost someone. Why couldn't you do that for Prim?" I say. "For me."

I stare at the shattered glass encircling my mother's heaving body. Its color is bright in the dingy room, shining and loud. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." My mother chokes out.

I shake my head. "It's too late for that."

She chokes on another loud sob. "I'm so sorry!" She half screams. "Please, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I watch her in pity, silent tears on my cheeks. I bite the inside of my cheek. "I can't forgive you."

"Please!" She begs.

I shake my head again. "I have to go. I have laundry I need to get done before work." I say before turning around and leaving. The sound of my mother's wails follows me down the hall as I snatch the laundry bag and practically run out the door.

* * *

By the time I made it to the Laundromat, my tears had dried, but my eyes stayed red. Night had fallen, the air so cold that I entered shivering all over. I only had an hour or so until work started, so I practically ran from the subway station. I was glad for the distraction. My mind was reeling from everything that had happened today. My sister leaving, and arguing with my mother left me drained and exhausted. I wanted to sleep, to crawl under a rock and never come out. But I can't. I still have responsibilities.

The Laundromat is quite other than the sound of the machines. The white walls are loud, so bright that it hurts my eyes. I walk over to a machine, throwing my bag down onto one of the seats. As my laundry washes, I sit down, my arms crossed over my chest. I look around the area to see Mags, the old lady that was here that day I saw Peeta, randomly pushing buttons on the machine. My brow furrows as I watch her, wondering if she even knows what she's doing.

I look back at my laundry to see I still have a few minutes until it's finished. With a sigh, I walk over the lady. Her short, white hair is wispy on top of her head, blowing gently from the breeze of the air conditioner. She hears my approach and turns to look, a huge toothless grin breaking out on her face. I smile wearily. She starts mumbling incoherently, pointing at the buttons again and again.

"Do you need help?" I ask.

She nods quickly. I push the green start and the machine turns on, the loud noise filling the area. She smiles brightly, mumbling what I think sounds like a 'thank you'. I nod and just as I'm about to turn around and head back to my spot, someone calls Mag's name behind us. I turn, my eyes widening as I watch a man in his early twenties approach us. He smiles warmly at Mags and my jaw almost drops. His blonde hair is curled slightly, but his smile looks strangely familiar. He looks just like Peeta but older and with stubble along his jaw.

He looks at me now, his blue eyes looking me up and down before extending his hand. Cautiously, I stick my hand out, gently grasping it in mine and shake his hand. "Are you a friend of Mags?" He asks me as our hands drop.

"Not really." I say, causing his eyebrows to shoot up. "I've only met her once before."

"Well…it's nice to meet you." He says. "I'm Rye Mellark. Mags here is a good friend of mine. Thanks for helping her with the washer. She always seems to forget how to start it." He says with a chuckle.

But I'm not listening. "You're Rye Mellark?" I ask.

He looks at me in confusion. "Yeah. Why?"

* * *

**Well, there's chapter 12 for ya folks! I hope I didn't bore you, but we kind of needed to move the story along. And besides, you guys had like 3 chapters worth of Peeta and Katniss action. (Which will be continued on soon) So, sorry for anyone who was dissipointed with the no Peeta chapter. :(**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think! :D **


	13. Chapter 13

**AN***** Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for waiting while I update. I feel awful and I don't have any excuse other than life. 'Nough said. **

**Thank you to all of my reviewers and readers. I appreciate each and every one, and I don't think I could thank you all enough. You guys are amazing. :)**

**Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter. (There's a flashback! Yay!)**

_**IMPORTANT NOTE!:**_** I would just like to give a special thanks to safeandsound12 for nominating me for 2013 Rebel Awards. I'm honored! :) If anyone is interested in voting or reading the other stories featured, go to safeandsound12's profile for information.  
**

**Read on...**

* * *

Chapter 14

Rye stares at me in confusion, his brow furrowed deeply. My hand drops from his, feeling numb as it falls limply at my side. I open my mouth to say something, but the words lodge in my throat. All rational thought seems to have escaped me, so I just stand there staring at him like a fish out of water. Rye shifts uncomfortably on his feet, growing wearier with each passing second that I remain silent.

Rye Mellark... he's Rye Mellark.

As the shock slowly starts to fade, the fog finally dissipating from my brain, I can feel my cheeks warm in silent anger. Why the heck is Rye here? Does he even know that his brother isn't even staying at home anymore? Does he even care? My hands ball at my sides as I glare daggers at him. How could he just leave his younger brother like that: alone with their abusive mother. What a coward! My jaw clenches to the point of pain. I want nothing more than to punch that stupid befuddled look off his face.

And I do just that.

My fist connects perfectly with his nose. He stumbles back in surprise, his hand flying up to cover the damaged area. A small drop of blood falls to the white tiled floor. If I hadn't been so angry, I would have smirked at the complete look of shock and confusion covering his face. He looks like a lost deer. But instead, I continue to glare at him as I try to resist the urge of punching him another time. He deserves it and I would happily give it him a second time.

"You jerk!" I scream at him, before I can even think about.

"What are you talking about?" He yells back, his face now red with anger. "You're the one who punched me!"

"And I'll gladly do it a second time!"

"I didn't do anything! I don't even know who you are!"

"But I know who you are, you coward." I growl.

"Hey, wait a second! Before you start calling me a coward you better explain yourself! What the heck did I do? Or do you just punch random strangers in the face as a regular occurrence?" He asks with sarcasm.

"No, just the ones who feed their brothers over to abusive mothers." I say, my voice dark as I slowly stand right in front of him. His eyes flash with guilt and shame, hidden behind the agonizing look of shock. His mouth drops open and I allow myself a moment to bask in the satisfaction of that stupid look on his face. Finally he composes himself, but not enough to hide the obvious nervousness running through him.

"How- how can you know anything about that?" He asks, his voice sounding much weaker than a few moments ago. His hand falls from his noise, revealing a slow trickle of blood.

"Does it matter?" I ask bitterly. "You still left."

"You're jumping to conclusions."

"Am I?" I say through clenched teeth.

His eyes flash as his anger returns. "Yes, you are. How could you know anything about what happens in my life and why I made the choices I did? And frankly it's none of your business. Who are you anyway?"

"Katniss." I say shortly. "And _frankly, _it is my business when your actions are causing a lot of damage to a friend of mine. You and everyone else in your family are slowly tearing him apart and you don't even realize it."

He stares at me, his eyes slowly filling with what can only be dread. "What friend?" He chokes out finally.

I scoff in disbelief. "Do you have to ask?"

He shakes his head, his blonde hair shaking with it. He stares at me with wide eyes, his cheeks losing the angry flush. Slowly, his expression crumbled into one of pain as his sinks into one of the cold plastic chairs, his head falling into his hands. I watch silently as his shoulders slump, his whole body looking as if it's lost all energy.

I'm momentarily shocked at his change in mood. Pushing aside the sudden stab of guilt, I just stare as he breaks down. My mind runs frantically as it processes what's happening. _You just punched a man who clearly didn't need that…that's what's happening._ I scowl as I give a frustrated tug on my braid. Why the heck is he here? Has he been in Chicago this whole time? I figured he was out of the state or something.

Rye's suddenly speaks causing me to jump slightly. "He's still there?" he mumbles through his hands.

"No. Not anymore. He's staying with…a friend, I guess you could say." I frown at the thought of calling Haymitch a friend.

"He finally moved out?" he asks as he lifts his head to peak at me.

"If you consider your mother running him out of the house because of her abuse, then ya." I say dryly.

He groans in frustration, his hand running through his hair. He curses under his breath. "I knew I shouldn't have left him!"

"Then why did you?"

He glances at me, and I flinch at the all-too-familiar distant look in his eyes that I've seen mirrored in Peeta's eyes more times than I can count. _What did your mother to do you_? "I couldn't stay there any longer." He says meekly.

"So you leave? Just like that?" I ask in disbelief.

"What was I supposed to do?" He asks, his voice desperate.

"You should have stayed!" I yell. "Or at least taken Peeta with you! How can you be that selfish?" My fists clench as I realize that wasn't fair, but I can't bring myself to take it back.

"I wasn't!" Rye yells in defense, his anger rising to match mine. The hollow look in his eyes all but vanishes as he glares at me. "You don't know why I chose the things I did. You should stop jumping to conclusions before you get the information."

"Then please, enlighten me." I say impatiently.

Through his anger I can see him hesitate slightly. His fingers fidget in his lap before he gives an angry sigh. "My mother was always worse when she was around." He explains. "I don't know why, but I figured if I left, then maybe she wouldn't be so hard on Peeta."

"Thanks kind of weak, don't you think?" I say sharply. I'm pushing his buttons, but I don't really care. He deserves it after what he did.

He glares at me again. "It was a rash decision, okay? I was desperate to get out and I thought it would help. Peeta's a big guy! I thought he would be okay." He says frantically, his hands back to his hair as they roughly tug through the curls.

"Peeta wouldn't do anything, especially to his mother and you know that!" I yell.

"Yeah, well… it obviously didn't work." He says angrily.

I watch him silently. From the corner of my eye I see a flash of white. Mags, who has been silently observing the rather loud exchange, sits herself on one of the chairs, seemingly unbothered. My attention draws back to Rye as he sighs deeply. It's unsettling how similar and yet how completely different he looks compared to Peeta. Rye looks like he's at least a few years older, his hair a darker shade of blonde, his eyes a more cloudy shade of blue.

But it's the look in their eyes that makes them look extremely different.

I take the seat next to Rye, the chair squeaking loudly in the small area. Fiddling with my braid I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He looks worn with dark circle under his eyes. His brow scrunches as he thinks, his blue eyes staring at the disgusting tile. I suddenly wonder when the last time he slept was. Does he have nightmares like Peeta? Is he as badly damaged? My chest tightens as I think of everything Peeta has been through in just the short amount of time I've known him. I can only think of how horrible it's been.

"Why didn't you try to contact him?" I ask quietly, a strange feeling that or conversation should be kept secret, out of the gossip- hungry ears of the laundry goers here.

Rye sighs. "I was stupid."

"Obviously." I grumble.

"Look, I don't know you or who you are and honestly I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this, but I was stupid. People make mistakes."

I look at him sharply. "Did you have to ignore him, though? Your brother runs away and you just leave."

His eyes widen. "How do you know about Tyler?" He asks in shock.

I roll my eyes. "I already told you. Peeta's a friend of mine."

He looks away, his brow furrowed deeply once again. I stare at my hands as I try to figure out why Rye, the eldest brother, would just leave like that. Yes, people make mistakes, but why hasn't he fixed it? What's so hard about taking care of your family? Rye has a responsibility to them and he just ignores it.

Suddenly, I remember something. "Do you even know your dad left?" I say before I can even wonder if that's the best way to approach that topic.

Rye looks up, his eyes dark. "Yeah, I know." He says calmly.

I stare at him a moment before laughing bitterly at his apparent lack of caring. _Seriously?_ "You're a jerk."

"Thanks for the reminder." He says.

"Well someone needed to tell you." I shake my head in disbelief again. "Honestly…do you really care?"

"Of course I do." He snaps.

My eyes narrow. "I find that hard to believe."

His expression melts as he suddenly looks at me curiously, one of his blonde eyebrows quirking just like Peeta's. "Why do you care so much about this?" he asks, his eyes intently curious.

I stiffen uncomfortably from the question. That's a bit personal.

"I mean I know you said you and Peeta are friends," he continues as I grew more uncomfortable. "but, why would you care _this _much…" he trails off. His eyes widen in recognition as he sees he growing blush on my cheeks. Suddenly, he bursts out laughing, the sound echoing loudly around the room. People cast us curious glances. I cover my face in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

Rye only laughs at my action. Tears of amusement fall to the dirty tiles. "Way to go Peeta!" He exclaims. My blush deepens; whether from embracement of anger, I'm not sure. "He finely got himself a girlfriend. That's adorable!"

Anger. Definitely anger. "Shut up." I snap.

"Why ? This is just perfect!" He says with a ridiculous grin.

"Shut up or I'll add another bruise to your nose!"

"Okay, okay. Calm down." He says as he wipes away tears from his eyes. When he's finally gathered his wits, he gives me a cheeky smile that seems eerily similar to something Finnick would give me when he tries to act sexy. Much to my announce, I blush even more, quickly averting my eyes to the floor.

"So how long has this been going on?" Rye asks slyly. At my silence, he continues. "It's okay. You can trust me."

"Yeah right." I scoff.

"You punched me, but you won't tell me how long you've been dating my baby bro? That's cold."

I sigh in frustration. "We're not dating!" I burst out.

He eyes me pityingly. "Oh. Unrequited love?" He asks sadly.

"What? No."

His brow furrows. "Okay then. So you like him, and he likes you…but you're not dating. What am I missing?"

"It's none of your business." I snap. "I have to go anyway." I stand up hastily, ready to bolt right out the door when Rye grabs my arm.

"You're just going to forget about your clothes?" He asks skeptically.

I look back at the washer, eyeing it with loathing. "Yep." Anything to get me away from here.

"Someone will steal them." He says matter of factly.

I pause. Rye smirks and my shoulders tense. He's right. Just turning my back on them is risky enough. I don't have the money to replace them. I sigh in frustration. Why did my dad have to get transferred? He would never have died, my mother would be normal, Prim wouldn't be in some community home, and I wouldn't have to go through all of this! Why can't we still be in North Carolina? Everything was so much easier then.

I shake my head, taking a deep breath as I try to calm myself. I can't change the past. There's no point in wishing when it gets you nowhere. I'd be better off wishing for a stupid unicorn. Maybe then I could sell it. I think of Peeta, and even though I wish the past could change, I realize that not everything has been totally worthless. There has been many times where I wish we hadn't met, where I wish I never found a job at the gym and never saw him. Then I could have continued on with my plan of living alone, taking care of Prim.

Then Peeta through a wrench right through that plan.

I look back at Rye. His smirk has faded slightly and he watches me in interest. I glare at him, yanking my arm out of his grip. With a sigh of annoyance, I sit back down on the chair, my arms folded across my chest. Rye laughs before taking his previous seat as well. He grins at me triumphantly, his blue eyes full of mirth. I really want to punch him again. In the short amount of time that I've known him I can already tell that he would get on my nerves the same amount, if not more, than Finnick does. I get a headache just thinking about the two of them in a room together.

"Don't look so smug." I snap at him. "You're coming to work with me tonight."

His mouth opens in shock, his eyebrows raising. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and I smirk. "What?" he asks finally.

"You're going to the gym with me and you're going to talk to Peeta." I clarify simply.

"No I'm not." He says, his voice slightly panicked. "You can't make me."

"Really?" I asks, "Well then how about I tell Peeta that his older brother, who ditched him with his beast of a mom, just so happens to go to the very same laundry mat, _deliberately_ avoids him, and hasn't fallen off the face of the planet like he thinks. How's that sound?"

Rye glowers at me in anger, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. "You wouldn't." He says, his voice strained.

I laugh mirthlessly. "Oh trust me, I would."

"There's a reason I haven't contacted him." He says, forcibly keeping his voice low.

I glare at him for his stupidity. "Yes, and we've already established that your 'reason' was crap."

"You don't know-"

"_Yes, I do." _I hiss,"You're a coward and it's about time that you fixed your stupid mistakes!"

His jaw clenches. He looks like he's ready to strangle me, but I don't care. I glare at him sharply, letting him know that I'm not wavering. He's going to that gym if I have to drug him and drag him there by his ankles. He sits like a statue as the minutes pass, the murderous look of rage slowly ebbing away to a slightly _less _murderous look of rage. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, groaning all the while.

"Fine," He snaps, "I'll go."

I grin at him, and he glares. "But I'm not staying long, and if this ends in disaster, I'm blaming you." He warms, pointing an accusing finger at me. I slap it away.

"Naturally." I say as I roll my eyes. "Of course you would blame the result of your mistakes on me."

"It was your idea, so _naturally_ I would." He states mockingly.

"We're leaving as soon as my clothes are done."

Rye sits back in his chair with a thunk. "Yippie."

We sit in silence, the only sound coming from the washers and driers. The sounds are calming and I soak it in as much as possible, suddenly feeling extremely exhausted as the events of the day catch up to me. But, of course, Rye speaks again, his voice somehow more annoying than it was a few minutes ago. My head falls into my hands in aggravation at his question.

"So if you and Peeta aren't dating…what are you?"

* * *

The night is unusually warm, the air thick with humidity. If you squint, you can barely make out the stars through the thick layer of smog that envelopes the city. Me and Rye stand outside the gym, the towering building casting a dark shadow over us. He eyes the front doors in contempt before his eyes wonder to the chipped brick of the building and his face contorts in disgust. "You actually work here?" he whispers to me.

I scoff. I had almost forgotten that he's from the nicer part of town and most likely doesn't stepped foot on the 'nasty' part of town if he can help it. Which I'm sure is most of the time. "I've worked in places a lot worse than this." I tell him.

He casts me a curious glance, the light of the street lamp reflecting the gold in his hair. "But… don't ladies like to work in…more suitable places?"

"Like salons?" I asks with a raised brow.

"Exactly."

"I work where I get paid." I snap, "I don't care about anything else."

Rye smirks. "Oh that's right… you're not a lady. Why would you care?"

My fists clench. Just one more punch, and I'd be perfectly happy. I smile inwardly at the bruise that's formed on his nose. No doubt it will last for at least a week. Jerk. "Stop stalling." I say.

"I'm not." He says defensively. I watch him skeptically as he paces back and forth, examining the structure of the building like it's critical to humanity.

After a few more paces, my patients grows thin and I snap, "The buildings not going to fall anytime soon! Will you just get inside before I die of heat stroke?"

He throws me an annoyed glance before he slows down, finally stopping right before the door. The light spills out through the dirty windows, the silhouettes of the gym members barely visible as they move around. His fingers fidget nervously as he stares at the handle of the door. "What if he hates me?" he mumbles, almost to himself.

His question is so ridiculous that I almost laugh out loud. Thankfully, I bite my lip before I make a sound. He obviously doesn't need me laughing at him if I want him to enter the building. Slowly, I walk up to his side, staring through the window just like him. I sneak a side glance at him to see the perspiration building on his forehead, and he quickly wipes it away.

I sigh. "Rye, I don't think Peeta has the capacity to hate anyone. Least of all his brother."

"He has every right to hate me, though." He says.

"But he won't. He cares about his family too much to hate them."

We stand silently for a few moments as he gathers his courage. He takes a deep breath. "Alright. Let's get this over with." He says decisively.

I nod. "Peeta's most likely upstairs. Just wait with Annie and let me warn him before he sees you."

"Sounds good." He says in a voice that he's trying to keep steady.

I pull open the door, wincing at the screeching sound, and gesture for Rye to follow. He steps in slowly, his eyes sweeping the room quickly before a look of relief flashes through his eyes when he sees the absence of his brother. I spot Annie at the reception desk, a magazine spread out in front of her, her bangs falling in front of her eyes as she leans against the desk. She glances up, her eyes widening at the sight of us.

"Peeta, I thought you were upstairs with Haymitch." She says to Rye.

He stares at her dumbly, glancing at me for assistance. I walk over to the desk and he fallows me wearily. Annie squints as he approaches, her brow furrowed deeply. She flushes a deep shade of red as she realizes her mistake. "I'm sorry!" She tells him quickly. "You look a lot like a friend of mine. Actually…suspiciously like a friend of mine." She looks him up and down, her arms crossing against her chest.

"Annie," I say, "this is Rye. Peeta's older brother."

Her mouth drops open and she stares at him with wide, green eyes. "You… but I thought… how are you-" She stammers. "What?" She looks at me, hoping I can clarify. I shake my head, silently telling her to wait.

"Can you watch him while I go get Peeta?" I ask her. She nods lamely. "Make sure he doesn't run." I warn.

With that, I leave the two of them standing there awkwardly. I hurry up the stairs, being careful not to trip. As I go, I silently prey that I'm doing the right thing. I can only hope that this won't cause Peeta any more pain. I grimace at the thought of it. Rye was wrong to leave Peeta, but I can't help but think that bringing him back might not end the way it should. Rye's stubborn, and even though I know Peeta will forgive him, it's the matter of Rye actually _believing_ that.

I swear, if he causes anymore pain to Peeta, his nose will have more than just a bruise.

Swallowing my own nervousness, I stop at the top of the stairs, once again tugging on my braid. I groan in frustration. On an impulse, I tug the ponytail out of my hair, letting it fall freely down my back. I run my fingers through the waves as I try to free the knots, trying not to wince. Honestly, I just want this day to end. I want it to be morning, so I can check on Prim, to make sure she's settled in. I think of my mother, of the argument we had just a few hours ago, and I want to throw something.

I'm frustrated and I'm tired and I just want this all to _end_. I feel like everything around me is moving at lightning speed, a giant blur, and I'm running to catch up, but I just can't. Everything is out of my reach. It's a nightmare that I can't wake up from. It keeps pulling me under and everything seems to be getting darker and darker. I need time. I need time to _think. _To process everything that's happened in just the last twenty-four hours. But it's time I don't have. It's always the things you need the most that are the hardest to obtain.

And for the second time tonight, I feel completely exhausted. I push my hair out of my face, my body suddenly feeling like led. With a shaky breath, I remember why I'm here; to help Peeta. And to my surprise and annoyance, the thought almost makes me happy. I've been trying my hardest to think about what happened in Haymitch's kitchen a few days ago. I feel my stomach flutter at the thought and give a growl of annoyance. Then I remember what happened after, and I freeze, my nerves suddenly increasing. _He's going to hate me… _I almost laugh at the irony of that. If Rye heard me now, I'm sure he'd never let me live that down.

I shake my head to clear it, figuring it's probably best if I don't have a mental breakdown right here on Haymitch's staircase. As I enter his living room, I find him talking to Peeta by the hallway, his back turned to me. My brow furrows as I spot the look of concern on Peeta's face as he speaks. His hands gesture about him, his bright blue eyes shining from some hidden passion hidden beneath. I can only imagine what he's trying to convince Haymitch of. Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll have no problem. When Peeta starts talking like that, he can get the most stubborn person to follow his lead without even realizing it.

At a pause in his speech, he finnaly seems to notice me lingering by the staircase. His hands drop to his side, his brow furrowing even more at the sight of me. Out of habit, I reach for my braid only to find the messy waves of my hair instead. I scowl, quickly deciding I'm never wearing my hair like this again.

"Katniss." Peeta says, looking surprised. I stare at him a moment, trying to determine the slight edge in his voice. Wearily, I take a few steps forward, a slight feeling of unease creeping over me.

Haymitch turns to look, his grey eyes sharp as they land on me. He grumbles something under his breath as he scratches at his beard. As he turns back, I catch a glimpse as his bored expression weavers slightly. My eyes narrow automatically and I glare at the both of them. If I hadn't known Peeta so well I wouldn't have caught the look of guilt that flashed across his face. I walk over to them, stopping next to Haymitch as I fold my arms.

"What are you guys hiding?" I ask bluntly.

"Nothing that concerns you, Sweetheart." Haymitch says gruffly as he pats me on the back.

I glare at him. He laughs, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You're here early."

His comment reminds me of why I'm early, causing me to forget my suspicions momentarily. I glance at Peeta nervously. He watches me in concern and I quickly advert my eyes. "I need to talk to Peeta." I tell Haymitch. "Alone."

Haymitch raises an eyebrow at me. "You finally coming around to your sense?" He asks, a smirk slowly forming on his lips. I flush in both anger and embarrassment. Peeta shifts uncomfortably. "It's none of your business." I snap.

Haymitch raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright." He grumbles in annoyance. "You do realize you're both in my house, though, right?"

"Can you just wait downstairs…or in the kitchen or something." I say impatiently.

"Fine. I'm going downstairs…I need a drink." He says as he heads towards the stairs, his steps dragging as if he hasn't slept in days.

"But I drained all your liquor." Peeta calls, and my eyes widen in disbelief. "And either way, wouldn't you go to the kitchen for that?"

"I know you drained my liquor, boy." Haymitch hisses. "I hid a bottle under the desk in my office." With that, he practically stumbles down the narrow stairs, cursing all the way.

Peeta sighs. I turn to look at him incredulously. "I should have known to check his office." He says with a resigned chuckle.

We stand in awkward silence, neither one of us knowing what to say. The last time we saw each other was a few days ago… when we were kissing in the kitchen down the hall. I think it's safe to say that that encounter hadn't ended as well as we both would have liked.

* * *

_Peeta and I slowly separate. We stare at each other, our expressions both one of awe. My arm is still draped around his neck as my other hand disentangles from his curls to rest against cheek. An odd tingling sensation seems to tickle my lips and I raise an experimental hand, my fingers gently resting against them. Do all kisses feel like that? For some reason I find that hard to believe...That was too perfect. Way too perfect. _

_Peeta smiles at me, his blue eyes filled with the most happiness that I've have even seen in them. Before I know it, I'm smiling back at him. I relish in the calm elation that's running through me, almost like a drug and I welcome it. I'm sure that if I was feeling truly girly, I would be bouncing up and down on my toes. But I don't. Instead I simply smile. Peeta seems fine with that. He pulls me even closer, his grip tightening impossibly against my waist. _

_I rest my head against his shoulder, my eyes closing as he stokes my hair. My mind seems empty of all thoughts other than I never want this moment to end. I ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me I'm making a mistake. I literally could care less if everything stayed exactly as it is right now. No pain, no anger, just happiness in its purest form. Simple. Peaceful. _

_Here, in Peeta's arms, it's easier to imagine life before Chicago. My father still alive, my mother still lucid, Prim free of any threats of being taken away. The only downfall in imagining that is the fact that in doing so, Peeta's not there. And then I wonder if it's worth it. If I could have my old life back, would it be worth losing Peeta? The only person besides Prim who genuinely cares to the point where I can barely comprehend it. Could I give up the love that somehow, without my knowledge or consent, has slowly been building over the weeks. _

_Guilt washes over me quickly, and I shove those thoughts to the darkest part of my head. That's not fair. To Peeta or my family. And the truth of the matter is, I can't bring the past to the present, and what I have presently doesn't seem so bad. I focus on Peeta, on the steady rise and fall of his chest underneath my palm. The calming rhythm of his heart. I can practically feel the happiness radiating off of him. I smile slightly. _

_The minutes pass all too quickly, and reality has a harsh way of showing up unannounced. Footsteps echo from the hall and me and Peeta jump apart. My eyes widen at the mess of his hair and I quickly signal for him to fix it. He smiles sheepishly as he pats it back into place, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. Just then, the kitchen door is pushed open._

_Annie stands in the threshold, eyeing our expressions suspiciously. She glances at the counter, her eyes lingering in the yellow cake that's now completely cooled. She glances at us once more, a small, giddy smile slowly forming. I automatically tense at the mischievous look that enters her green eyes. She leans casually against the counter, one hand resting loosely on her hip. _

_"Only one cake, Peeta?" she asks with a barely suppressed giggle. "You usually have enough to feed the entire city by now." _

_"I just wanted to take my time." he answers with a little half shrug, the lie flowing easily from his mouth. I silently thank the heavens for his ability to lie so smoothly. But unfortunately, Annie catches it, apparently having been friends with him long enough to notice when he lies. She nods slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Uh huh. So what have you guys been doing while…taking your time?" She asks. _

"_We talked mostly." He says, unwavered from her lack of belief. _

_She perks up at this, biting her lip as she tries her hardest not to smile. I almost groan, knowing that this can't go anywhere good. I miss the times when she was still getting to know me. She was shy back then. _

_Apparently she can't seem to hide her excitement. Suddenly, she squeals, her hands clapping together. "I knew it, I know it, I knew it!" She chants, and if I had been thinking properly I would have walked out the door right then and there. _

"_What do you know?" Peeta asks wearily. _

"_You said mostly! Mostly. That implies that you did other things like, dare I say it… kissing…" _

_Me and Peeta stand completely still, like an animal freezes when a predator is around. We glance at each other, both of us silently asking the other what we should do. Annie's not stupid. She's bound to find out about it sooner or later. It's just a matter of when and how. It may be better to just come out with it rather than her finding out on accident and thinking we kept it from her… which would have been the truth either way. Damage control. _

_If it were up to me, she would never know. But nothing ever goes as planned and nothing works in my favor. Ever. So, when my anger flares at this whole situation, it dies almost as quickly, instead leaving me completely irritated. _

_Just as me and Peeta are reaching our silent agreement, Annie speaks up again. _

"_You guys don't have to keep it hidden. It was bound to happen sooner or later. But, if it makes you feel better, I won't tell Finnick." She says with a small, teasing smile. _

_I curse under my breath. I had forgotten about Finnick. Suddenly, this whole thing seems like a nightmare. The whole gym is going to know. Haymitch, drunken old Haymitch, who can't hold his tongue to save his life, is going to know. Whatever happened to just having a simple life? Whatever happened to privacy? As much as I want to believe Annie will keep this hidden, I know that eventually she'll want to tell someone and that someone will be Finnick. Of course. _

_As me and Peeta remain silent, Annie excuses herself, quickly rushing down the hall. Anger slowly begins to build and my fists clench at my side. I just want privacy. That's all, and I can't even have that. Peeta gently places a comforting hand on my arm. I tense, knowing that if I don't leave now, I'll just end up blowing up on him. So, before he can say anything, I move from his grasp and follow Annie down the hall and out the building, the whole time ignoring Peeta's calls of my name. _

* * *

"Is everything alright, Katniss?" Peeta asks in concern and I shake my head to clear it.

I look up at his face, suddenly feeling extremely guilty of my actions. "I'm fine, Peeta."

He hesitates momentarily. "Prim left today, didn't she?" he asks gently.

"Yes…but- but I have to tell you something." I blurt out before I lose my nerve. It's better to just cut to the chase.

Peeta looks guilty suddenly, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "If it's about the other day… I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"That's not it, Peeta." I say quickly, cutting him off before he can continue. He looks at me in confusion. "We can talk about that later, but there's something important I have to tell you."

"Okay…" He says, his eyes uncertain.

I take a deep breath, silently begging that this won't end in disaster. I can't seem to look him in the eye any longer. Peeta gently lifts my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. "Katniss, what is it?" He asks.

"Rye is here."

His hand drops from my chin, falling limply to his side. He takes an unsteady step backwards, nearly tripping. He stares at me in disbelief, his eyes wide. "Rye… my brother Rye."

I nod.

"How…?"

I laugh slightly, nervously. "It's a bit of a long story. But I think you should talk to him."

"I- he's okay?" He asks, a smile slowly forming on his face though it's still mixed with disbelief.

Relief floods through me. At least he's freaking out. Or mad. Then again, this could still end horribly. "He's downstairs. Go see for yourself." I say as I gesture to the stairs. He nods quickly, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek as he heads down the hall. Shocked, I stand there for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts, my mind racing a mile a minute. I roll my eyes at myself. I just need sleep. Maybe today was all a nightmare… one giant nightmare.

I sigh deeply, slowly turning to follow Peeta down the stairs.

* * *

**Well, there you have it.** **Chapter 13 is now at a close. **

**I hope you all enjoyed it. I know I had fun writing the interaction between Rye and Katniss. :)**

**Let me know what you think! **

**P.S. Don't forget to go to safeandsound12's profile for information on the 2013 Rebel Awards. :D **


	14. Chapter 14

**AN* **** Surprise! I have a chapter early for you guys! Thankfully I've had a lot of free time lately so I thought I'd treat you all with the next chapter. **

**Once again, I would just like to mention the Rebel Awards 2013 contest and I would like to ask you guys to vote at safeandsound12's profile. :) Have fun with that...**

**I don't have much to say except that I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and thank you to all who read and review. :D **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games. **

* * *

Chapter 14

Back in the main room of the gym I stand to the side, in between Annie and Finnick as we silently observe the teary reunion of Peeta and his brother. They hug each other tightly for several minutes, each trying to put up a farce of manliness as they clap each other on the back roughly. A tired smile slowly starts to form on my lips. I try to ignore the lump in my throat. I hear a sniffle to my left and turn to see Annie wiping at her eyes. She elbows me playfully in the side when she catches me watching her with a raised brow.

Seeing the two brothers next to each other now, the differences in their appearance seems much more obvious. While Rye is taller, Peeta is stockier. They have the same curly hair, though Rye's is slightly darker. It's their eyes, though, that holds the major differences. It's no doubt they both hold the same tortured look, but something in Peeta's eyes shines with forgiveness… an odd happiness that lacks in Rye's. There's an innocence in Peeta that I've only ever seen in Prim, and it seems like his eyes are an exact reflection of that. _Eyes are the window to the soul…_

Soon after, Rye and Peeta excuse themselves, heading for the stairs in hopes of more privacy. By now the gym is almost completely empty, only one of the treadmills occupied by an elderly lady. Without a glance at Annie or Finnick, I head towards the supply closet, braiding my hair back as I go. The absence of footsteps behind me causes me to let out a sigh of relief. I had half expected Annie and Finnick to start hounding me with questions once we were alone. Grateful for the first bit of peace today, I open the closet and pull out a dusting rag.

With meticulous, well-practiced strokes, I walk around the gym dusting the equipment as I go. With the use of the distraction, I gladly empty my mind, allowing myself a few minutes just to rest even if it's only mentally. I feel like my brain has been working on overload ever since I got up this morning. I scrub at the sweat on the benches, watching almost impassively as the once white rag slowly turns grey. The cloth is rough and torn. I'm surprised it's not falling apart in my hand. I guess as long as it gets the job done it doesn't really matter what condition it's in.

As I clean, my mind begins to wander. Suddenly, I'm planning a trip to the woods tomorrow. Our meat is running low and I haven't been paid yet so I can't go to the market. I'm not really bothered by that; fresh venison tastes better anyway. After I visit Prim- the thought automatically sobers me. Here I am planning a trip to the woods while Prim's locked away in a community home. I'll get to see her tomorrow, though, and I can make sure she's okay…and somehow figure out how to get her out of there.

Then there's the matter of my mother to worry about. With a shock, I remember no one is home to feed her. She's probably still sitting on the kitchen floor, shatter pieces of a coffee cup littered around her. _She probably fell asleep_, I think bitterly. For her it's easier to sleep reality away than actually face it. I realize that it's going to have to be me now that takes care of her. I'm going to have to spoon feed her. I'm going to have to stare at her dead eyes on a daily basis. The idea sickens me, but I have no other choice.

I look down at the rag in my hand to see my knuckles white from the death grip I have on it. Slowly, I release my grip, letting the rag fall to the bench. I bite back a bitter laugh. No matter how much I try to relax, it seems that my thoughts will always end up there or someplace worse. How typical. I pick up the rag again, this time scrubbing with more vigor. My braid falls over my shoulder and I push it back angrily. I stop quickly, pausing to listen. My shoulders sag when I hear someone sit down on the bench to my left.

"So…what happened?" Annie asks curiously, her voice a whisper. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprise. It was useless thinking they would leave me alone for the night.

With an aggravated sigh, I rush through an explanation. "I saw him at the Laundromat, punched him in the nose, then forced him to come here and see Peeta."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," she says with an impatient wave of her hand. She pauses suddenly. "Wait…. You punched Rye?"

At my nod, she grins. She glances behind her, where Finnick is cleaning around the boxing ring. I roll my eyes at the t-shirt that's obviously too tight for his frame, his muscles practically ripping the fabric. His shiny golden hair just completes the whole ensemble.

"I'm sure Finnick would have loved to see that." Annie says, drawing my attention back to her. "You should have seen the look on his face when he walked in the gym to see the handsome Rye with his arm draped over my shoulder." She giggles, her green eyes glowing.

I raise an eyebrow. "Finnick didn't kill him? Or proclaim you as his fair maiden?" I ask dryly.

"Well at first he thought he was Peeta, which made it even funnier. I'm pretty sure he was going to declare a boxing match." She shakes her head in disbelieving amusement. "Then he got closer and realized that it _wasn't_ Peeta. Oh, I had never seen him look so bewildered!" She says, laughing loudly. She wipes at the tears in her eyes before continuing. "Once I told him he was Peeta's brother he laid off a bit, but I think he's still mad."

I look back at Finnick, just now noticing the rigidness of his shoulders, the way his brows draw down intently, casting shadows over the angry look in his eyes. I smirk.

"Anyway…" Annie says, the laughter slowly draining from her voice. "That wasn't what I meant. I meant how did it go… with Prim."

I freeze, the blood draining from my face. With a rigidness that could match Finnick, I continue scrubbing the bench, my eyes hard. I can feel the tension building, the flush growing on my cheeks… the panic that's slowly building. I close my eyes tightly as I try to calm the erratic beating of my heart. How does she know about that? I made sure no one knew of that. How could she know, and if she knows, who else knows? The only person I told was Peeta.

I stop, my mind racing.

My fists clench. I told him that privately! Not so he could go gossiping around the gym about my pathetic excuse for maintaining my family. I grip the side of the bench tightly as I try to contain my anger. I can't believe he actually told someone. I laugh bitterly. So much for trusting him. I should have known. I should have known that he would be just like everyone else in this sorry excuse of a city. I bite my lip, silently screaming at myself for being so completely stupid.

Annie must have sensed the anger building in me for she leans over, her eyes concerned. "Katniss?"

I turn to her sharply. "How did you know about Prim?" I asks through clenched teeth.

Her brow furrows deeply. "Well I-" she halts, her eyes growing wide. "You think Peeta told me." She states.

"He was the only one I told about that." I say bitterly.

Her expression turns pleading. "Don't be mad at Peeta! He didn't tell me anything."

I stare at her, clearly disbelieving. I'm not an idiot. "He was the only one I told." I repeat again, my tone cold. "That's the only way you would find out."

"He didn't tell me, I promise. Don't be mad at him." She says intently.

My eyes narrow. "Then how did you even know that he knew? I'm not stupid, Annie." I say, my anger rising even more.

She pauses, bites her lip. Hesitantly, she says in a quiet voice, "I can't tell you right now." I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off, her voice pleading. "Just believe me when I tell you that Peeta didn't tell me."

I glare at her skeptically, my jaw clenching tightly. A weary tiredness slowly creeps over me, and, if it wasn't for that, I probably would have interrogated Annie more, but I'm too tired. This day has pulled my emotions in every direction possible, and I feel if I strain myself even more I might actually break. So, casting her one last annoyed glance, I continue wiping down the bench, hoping beyond hope that she won't bother me anymore. _Just leave me in peace. That's all I ask. _

I practically growl at her when she speaks once more.

"So Prim's okay?" She asks again.

"I don't know, Annie!" I half yell in a mix between anger and extreme annoyance. "I haven't seen her since this morning. Now are you done asking me questions? I just want to finish this."

She smiles a lopsided, sympathetic smile. With a nervous hand running through her dark hair, she nods meekly. I close my eyes at the sudden pounding in my head. Almost on cue, the front door of the gym opens, the hinges screeching loudly. Annie and I flinch as we turn to see who entered. I almost stalk out the door right then. Because there, standing lazily by the front desk, is none other than Johanna Mason. My teeth grind together from the pressure of trying to contain my scream of disbelieving anger. Of all people!

She surveys the room, her eyes narrowing hatefully once they land on me before quickly turning bored as she turns to find Finnick cleaning the ring. Her hair sticks out in spikes on top of her head, short and brown and completely ridiculous. With sluggish motion, she crosses her arms over her chest, looking as if she would rather be any place but here. I couldn't agree with her more. _Leave, just like you want to; no one will miss you. I promise. _Instead, she eyes Finnick with a smirk, her eyes filled with an unnatural, playful malice that I didn't even know was possible.

"Wow, Finnick." She says, effectively gaining his attention from the edge in her voice, the poorly hidden smirk. "Just when I thought your clothes couldn't get any tighter, you prove me wrong. They practically scream, 'I'm a douchebag!'" She exclaims as she throws her arms out exaggeratedly.

I scowl. Finnick flushes slightly before he recovers. He puffs his chest out, striking a provocative pose that only deepens my scowl.

"Why?" he asks. "We both know you find this," he glances down suggestively, a smirk on his lips, "…distracting."  
Johanna scowls in disgust and I almost laugh. "The day I find you attractive is the day you grow a brain"

Finnick laughs. "Then you're in luck!" He taps the side of his head. "I've got knowledge beyond your dinky imagination." He says dramatically.

Johanna scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest. Once again, the bored look his back. A lazy smile slowly forms on her lips and she raises her eyebrows in amusement. "Dinky imagination? Really?" She asks. "You couldn't come up with anything better?"

He shrugs. "It sounded good at the time."

I glance at Annie to find her watching them in amusement, her head resting in her hand as she leans forward. She notices me looking and turns to me, flashing me a quick smile. I resist rolling my eyes. It's amazing how someone's mood can change so quickly. I glance back at the pair on the other side of the room as their annoying banter continues.

"Would you like a dictionary for your birthday? Maybe I could you one on tape. Then you could work on your comebacks and your bench press at the same time." Johanna says in a falsely bright voice.

Finnick pauses in thought. "That's actually not a bad idea, Jo." He says as he scratches his chin.

She throws her hands up in aggravation and Annie giggles. "It was a joke, Finnick!" Johanna exclaims.

He smirks, his eyes twinkling. "I know. I was testing out my acting skills." He glances at her annoyed expression before smiling in triumph. "They're fine."

The rest of the night continued in the same way. Finnick and Johanna argued more times than I thought was possible in one night. Most of the time it was over something completely stupid that consisted of them trying to out-do each other in a battle of wits. What was even more annoying was the fact that neither one of them won. By the end of the night my head was pounding and I came so close to yelling at them to shut up.

By the time closing come, Rye and Peeta still hadn't come down from Haymitch's.

I left as soon as the clock hit eleven.

* * *

Silently observing the area, I try not to let my hatred for this place overwhelm me. I try to focus Prim and nothing else. I don't focus on the fact that she's only here because of me, that I'm the sole reason that she's locked up in this tomb. Even though I know it's true, I try to ignore it. I can only hope that if I ignore it, I won't end up lashing out at the employees. I'll get thrown out before I can even see Prim if I do that.

I walk down the grey hallway towards the dormitories. The hall is narrow and poorly lit, the paint barely hiding the rusting, metal walls behind it. On the walls, varies paintings of flowers and animals fade, the paint slightly chipped. I shake my head ruefully. What a sad attempt to try and cheer this place up. Why do they even bother? This place is a prison. Even the kids know it; it's obvious from their dead stares.

More than once, I've passed a kid in hallway. Every time it's the same thing. The glace up at me wearily because scurrying around me like serpent about to strike. My nerves increased every time it happened. What could they possibly be doing here to make the kids so jumpy? Anxiously, I hurry faster down the long hall, my need to see Prim increasing with each passing second. I silently scold myself. She's only been here one night. She can't have turned into a robot overnight.

The hallway leads into a large room at least twice the size of our house. On either wall, a row of small beds line it. There has to be at least twenty on each wall. The blankets are a dull, pink color made from what looks like an extremely scratchy wool, the frames a plain metal. As soon as I enter the room, I automatically notice the chill. Apparently they can't afford heaters here and would rather have the children die of colds. I scowl, already completely hating this place.

I scan the room, searching for that flash of blonde hair that's so familiar. Children talk quietly, huddled together on their beds as they gossip about the latest hair ribbon styles, or maybe even the boys that are located down the hall in their own room. Some sit on the old wooden floor, cards spread out among them. I raise my eyebrow when I notice their attempt at building a card house. At least it's better than gambling. Although I doubt they have anything to bet with.

To my right I hear a giggle. I pause, a smile forming quickly on my lips at the all too familiar sound. I turn to see Prim siting crisscrossed on a bed, laughing with a darker skinned girl across from her. I can't keep the relief off my face, glad that she's already made a friend. I shouldn't be surprise, though. Prim makes friends like it's the easiest thing in the world.

My eyes do a quick scan over her, checking for anything abnormal. Her blonde hair is shining, tumbling down her back in waves. With a wave of relief, I can't see any bruises on her skin or signs of abuse. She seems normal from here. But the thing that worries me the most is her eyes. From my point of view, I can't see them. I don't want to see that same dead stare that the rest of the kids seem to have. It's irrational, but I don't really care.

I walk over there quietly, making sure she doesn't see me. Her friend looks at me with curious brown eyes and I place a finger to my lips, silently telling her to stay quiet. She smiles slightly before returning her attention to Prim. They talk for a few more minutes, their giggles echoing around the room in stark contrast to the practical silence. The whole time I stand off to the side, just out of Prim's view as I try to hide the smile on my face. Her friend glances at me again, her eyes shining with amusement.

"He ended up tripping on his shoelaces right in the middle of the cafeteria!" Prim exclaims.

"Oh, the poor boy. That must have been awful." Her friend replies, frowning. She fiddles with her dark hair, twisting a tight ringlet around her finger.

"I know. Some kids can be so rude. I just don't get it. I mean, how can people actually find it funny to embarrass people?" Prim asks, shaking her head in confusion.

_Prim... You just don't realize how many horrible people are on this earth. _

"They're just bad, I guess." the girl says with a helpless shrug.

"Exactly." I say suddenly, startling Prim who whips around to face me. Her face breaks out into a huge smile, her blue eyes as bright with excitement as I've seen them. I return her smile gratefully. No dead stare.

"Katniss!" she exclaims, jumping off the bed. She slams into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist in a crushing hug.

I kneel down in front of her, laughing as she practically bounces up and down on her feet.

"How many times do have I remind you about all the bad people around, Little Duck?" I ask teasingly.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Too many times."

She glances over her shoulder before grabbing my hand and dragging me over to the bed. The plops down gracefully, patting the empty spot next to her. I sit down, grimacing slightly at the rusty sound of the springs. Prim gestures to her friend who's sitting quietly on her own bed, her legs cris-crossed.

"Katniss, this is Rue. My bunk mate." Prim says excitedly.

Rue smiles shyly as she gives a slight wave. "Hi."

"Hello." I say, slightly awkward.

"So you're Prim's sister?" she asks. "She's talked about you nonstop."

Prim beams proudly. "Yep. Hunter extraordinaire, best big sister on the planet, and could beat up a boy if she wanted too." she says.

I smirk, thinking of Rye's bruised nose. She's not far off. "That reminds me," I say suddenly, turning to Prim, "I can't stay for long. I have to go hunting later."

Prim pouts. "Those poor deer..." she says solemnly.

I laugh, tugging at her hair gently. She smiles crookedly at me. "You know we have to eat, Prim. And it's cheap."

"I know." She says with a resigned sigh.

"At least when I'm done, there's at least one less pesky squirrel."

"Katniss!' Prim gasps in horror.

"I'm kidding, Prim." _Not really. _

She eyes me skeptically, before turning back to Rue. "As you can tell, she hates animals." She says seriously.

"Prim! I don't hate animals." I say, slightly shocked.

She giggles, placing her hand on my arm in what's supposed to be a comforting manner. "I'm kidding, Katniss." She says as she tries to imitate my voice. My eyes narrow slightly in warning and she quickly splutters out an apology, "Sorry."

I snort as she glances at me in apology. I open my mouth to speak when I hear loud voices floating in from down the hall. Shortly, one of the workers walks into the room, a clipboard in hand accompanied by a sickeningly fake smile on her face. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear before motioning for the couple behind her to follow her. The couple lock arms happily as they glance around at the children, their eyes glowing with poorly hidden excitement. A hush slowly spreads over the room, the girls all alert as their chatter slowly dies into silence.

From the corner of my eye I see Rue stiffen uncomfortably. I turn to look at her to see her eyes locked fearfully on the floor. A light tap on my shoulder grabs my attention and I turn to Prim. She motions for me to lean down and I do. "Rue has a couple coming to meet her soon. For adoption." She whispers in my ear. My stomach twists. I look back at the couple. They slowly walk past us, their eyes lingering on Prim and Rue and my heart stops in my chest. Almost unconsciously, my arm wraps around Prim protectively.

The couple moves on as they continue to follow the assistant farther down the row of beds. I watch silently, my heart beating painfully in my chest as they approach a girl with strawberry blonde hair, no older than six, where she sits with her knees pulled under her chin. She watches the couple frightfully as they approach her, tears brimming in her eyes. With a lot of persuasion, she follows the trio out the room, silent tears streaming down her small face as she trails behind, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

They disappear down the hall, the dim light slowly swallowing their image. All at once it seems like the room literally sighs in relief as everyone slowly relaxes again. The rest of the girls continue with their games, though less enthusiastic than last time. Rue looks back up, her face a mixture of weary relief and delirious joy. She sighs shakily, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Prim watches her with a sympathetic look, her blue eyes filled with sadness. Letting out a silent breath, I try to contain my own nerves. I smile slightly in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Have you settled in okay, Prim?" I ask her, relieved when my voice comes out stronger than I thought it would.

She blinks. "Oh… yes. Yeah, I'm all settled in." she says as she shakes out of her thoughts. She glances at Rue again, concern written all over her face.

"Good." I say, suddenly at a loss for words. The silence stretches for a few awkward moments. "I have something funny to tell you guys." I say as I try to sound excited.

They both look at me curiously and I smile slightly, though feels more like a grimace. "Yesterday night when I was walking home for work down the alley, it was really dark and couldn't see very much." I say, hoping beyond hope this will work. "I was just walking past one of the dumpsters when all of the sudden a cat jumps out and scares the living daylights out of me!" I say, and their eyes widen. "I got so scared I screamed and ended up running right into the dumpster."

They start laughing and I roll up my sleeve to show them the bruise on my elbow. They laugh harder, both of them clutching their stomachs. "I didn't realize it, but I had actually stepped on its tail. The stupid thing followed me down the alley, hissing at me the whole way."

They laugh even more as they wipe away tears in their eyes. It echoes around the room and I smile, glad that the tension is gone. Glad to see them smiling again. Even if it was at my own expense. That actually had happened to me last night, but instead of screaming I yelled at the cat in anger, using a few choice words that I obviously couldn't retell. The only reason I hit my elbow was because the stupid thing started walking in-between my legs and tipped me.

"Oh, the poor cat!" Prim says though her chuckles.

I look at her in surprise. 'Why are you feeling sorry for the cat? I'm the one who ran into the dumpster!"

"You stepped on his tail, Katniss." She says, smiling at me.

"Unbelievable." I mutter under my breath. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the cat is cared about more.

"At least it didn't bite you." Rue offers. Prim laughs and nudges me in the side.

"Yeah…he could have had rabies." I say. Prim rolls her eyes.

I sigh as I look at Prim. "I have to go. It's going to be too late for me to see anything if I wait any longer."

She frowns. "I'll come back soon." I assure her as I stand, stretching out my back.

"Do you have work tonight?" She asks.

"No. Not until Monday."

"And mom's doing alright?" She asks tentatively. I hesitate before giving her a quick nod. She looks relieved as she stands up to give me a hug, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. "Can you come back tomorrow?" She asks hopefully, looking up at me with pleading blue eyes.

"I'll try."

* * *

The subway rocks back and forth unsteadily. I grip the pole tightly in an attempt to keep my balance. I glance around at the familiar yellow walls, browning from age. I almost smile at the lack of people in today, glad that for once I'm not shoved up against some sweaty old guy who's hands have a 'mind of their own'. My braid flies forward as the subway car jerks to a stop, the wheels screeching loudly. I wait for the rest of the people to file out before hopping off after.

I pull my bag over my shoulder as I glance up at the smog filled blue sky. The afternoon sun beats down, heating the concrete beneath my feet. For once it's not cloudy and rainy, or suffocating from the humidity. The air is mild and cool, the perfect temperature. A slight breeze stirs the loose hair around my face as a feeling of peace spreads over me. Adjusting my bag, I head for the direction of the gym, taking my time as I soak in the perfect weather.

Once I arrive at the gym, a pause momentarily before yanking open the heavy door regretfully. I should have called in sick. Today would have been perfect for hunting…or really anything other than this. As the door opens, a cool blast of air rushes against my flushed cheeks. I walk inside, my eyebrows rising at the amount of people in today. The normally quite gym is now filled with the sound of people talking, the clanking of weights being moved around, and the scuffle of feet originating for the fighting ring. I guess the weather was affecting everyone. Although, you would think they would want to exercise _outside_ instead of inside.

I walk over to the front desk, throwing my bag underneath. Annie beams at me.

"Jo's already cleaning the locker rooms so you can sweep or something." She tells me.

My mood deflates slightly. So much for a peaceful afternoon. Looks like I'll be spending most of my time avoiding evil incarnate. I nod. "I'll sweep."

As I pass the boxing ring, I see Peeta and Thresh circling each other cautiously. Thresh throws a punch that Peeta easily deflects as he ducks out of the way before circling behind him. Thresh moves just in time, successfully avoiding a tackle. He seems like he's getting better. Both of them are breathing heavily as sweat drips from their foreheads and I grimace slightly.

Finnick watches from the ground, his arms crossed over his chest thoughtfully. "Hey, Finnick." I call.

He turns around in surprise. From the corner of my eye, I notice Peeta looking over, his hands dropping slightly. I glance over at the ring just as Thresh tackles Peeta to the ground, taking advantage of his distraction. My eyes widen and I laugh before I can help myself. Finnick turns around at the sound of Peeta hitting the mat and groans.

"Keep your fists up, Peeta! If you keep doing that every time a pretty girl distracts you, you'll never leave the mat!"

I chuckle under my breath as I hurry away. Opening the supply closet, I pull out the broom and quickly start sweeping my way around the room. My mind wanders as I watch the pile of dirt and dust slowly grow. As I make it back to where I started, the pile is at least the size of a watermelon. I sweep it into the trash, dusting my hands off as I walk over to the small group that's gathered by the boxing ring. I almost turn the other way when I see Johanna, instead I steel myself for the argument that's bound to happen and stand beside Annie, across from Jo.

"We'll need to start a workout routine that's bigger and better." Finnick says excitedly to Peeta. He nods, his eyes thoughtful. "It's going to be a hard competition. Nothing like fighting Thresh." Finnick says. He glances at over at Thresh as he scowls. "No offense."

"None taken. I guess." Thresh says solemnly. Johanna smirks.

Finnick continues without losing a beat. "It's going to work in elimination rounds. You

lose one fight, and you're out of the competition. There's going to be a lot of fights, though. A lot of people who join in this competition have been training for years…at professional gyms."

Everyone groans. "He's doomed." Thresh says. Annie frowns at him while Johanna snickers.

Peeta smiles slightly. "Thanks for the confidence boost, Thresh."

Finnick waves his hand impatiently. "No. You would be doomed, Thresh. Pete here, who beat you twice today even after you had him pinned on the mat, will completely destroy the competition."

"When does it start?" Annie asks.

"Two weeks." Finnick answers.

"So soon?" I ask, causing everyone to turn to me in surprise. Apparently they didn't realize I was here.

"Well we've known about it for a while but certain…events kind of delayed us." Finnick explains. I bit the inside of my cheek and Peeta quickly adverts his eyes to the floor. I ignore Annie's knowing smile and Johanna's curious glances back and forth between me and Peeta. Thankfully the boys don't notice.

"What do you say we get started this afternoon?" Finnick asks Peeta.

"Actually, can we do it this evening? I have to talk to Haymitch about some things first."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine."

"Thanks." Peeta says, and with that he leaves the group, heading straight for Haymitch's office.

I watch him go, my eyes slightly narrowed. There's something that the two of them are keeping from me, but I don't know what. My arms cross over my chest and I force myself to look away as the door to the office closes behind Peeta. Suddenly, I wonder how it went with Rye last week. I'm surprised I hadn't even thought of it until now. I guess visiting your younger sister in a community home and taking care of your incompetent mother leaves no room for anything else.

Guilt suddenly floods through me. Am I really that wrapped up in my own problems that I don't even pay attention to anyone else's? Especially since I could be the cause of them.

The group breaks up, Finnick and Thresh heading back to the ring and Annie back to the front desk. Johanna stares at me, her eyes narrowed.

"What?" I snap defensively.

"Nothing…yet." She says before turning her back on me and walking back to the locker rooms. I watch her walk away in confusion, my fists clenching at my side. I really hate her.

By the time night falls, the gym is practically empty. I cleaned most of the day, avoiding both Peeta and Johanna for completely different reasons. My guilt built each time I walked the other way when Peeta approached, the hurt and confused look on his face haunting me. I ignored it as best as I could, silently telling myself that it's for the better. Johanna on the other hand, glared at me each time, her own anger flaring to match mine. At one point, as I was once again making a hasty retreat away from Peeta, my heart racing, she stalked over to me, grabbed my arm and hauled me out the door of the gym.

I followed her, shock overcoming me as she tugged me into the street. Finally, I realized what she was doing and yanked my arm free, my fists clenched in anger. We both stop as she turns around to glare at me.

"What are you doing?" I demand angrily.

"Will you shut up and follow me?" She bites back and my jaw clenches.

I hesitate for a moment before my curiosity gets the better of me and I nod curtly, gesturing for her to lead the way. It doesn't take long to realize she's leading me to the alley and I suddenly wonder if she's going to try to murder me. It'd be the perfect place; where no one would hear my muffled screams. Before I can help it, I'm searching to see if she has a weapon hidden.

Finally in the alley, she turns around, her arms crossed over her chest as she glowers at me. I glare right back, already upset at the unknown reason of her anger.

"Okay, what do you what?" I ask impatiently.

"What's going on with you and Peeta?" She asks bluntly.

My mouth opens but no words come out. "That's none of your business." I hiss. "Did you seriously drag me all the way out here in the middle of the night to ask me _that?_"

"Don't lie." She snaps, completely ignoring my question. "There is something going on, but I'm not sure what. Whatever it is though, I can tell you're hurting him and you don't even seem to care." She says angrily.

My eyebrows raise. "Why do you care? You hate everyone!" I accuse.

"Just because I find people annoying does not mean I hate them. And Peeta's probably the least annoying out of all of you."

"That doesn't mean you care about him." I say.

"He's my friend, he's been hurt enough in his life and if you cause him one more ounce of pain, I swear-"

"You'll what? Beat me up?" I ask with a mirthless laugh. She glares at me but I cut her off before she can speak. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt Peeta. I have my reasons for avoiding him and if you could please just _leave it alone _that would be great." I say sharply.

"Why?" She asks, her own fists clenched.

"It's none of your business so drop it!" I yell, my face flushing in anger.

"Why?" She presses again, her voice a hiss.

"Because I don't want to lose him!" I yell.

Her expression changes to one of shock and she stares at me in confusion. "Everyone I've cared about has left me in one way or another and I don't want the same to happen with Peeta, okay?" I ask, my voice almost shaking in anger and desperation.

She looks at me like I'm stupid. "And you thought avoiding him will help you _not _lose him?" She asks.

"I figured I'd cut it off before it got any worse." I say lamely, shaking my head at how ridiculous it sounds out loud.

"That's stupid." She says simply. "Do you care about him?" I hesitate. "Don't lie." She warns.

"Yes, I care about him." I say reluctantly, kicking at the dirt in aggravation.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

It's silent for a moment as both of us are lost in thought. The night is warm, clear. I glance in the direction of the gym, a strange feeling settling in my stomach.

"Don't avoid him." She says sternly, as if I'm a child. "You'll regret it. It's better to have happy memories with someone than none at all. Trust me."

I glance at her in curiosity, my brow furrowed. She rolls her eyes. "Think of the people that you cared about that left. Would you rather have never met them and never have gotten the joy you did, or to actually have that joy in your life…even if it doesn't last long?"

She walks past me, her spiky hair reflecting the moonlight as she walks back to the gym. After a moment I follow her, an odd determination growing inside me.

I find Peeta by the front desk talking to Annie. He looks up, a small, hesitant smile on his lips. I walk over to him, standing so we're less than a foot apart. His eyes never leave mine, the blue bright and curious. Slowly, as if I'm afraid he'll disappear at any moment, I reach up with one hand, gently resting it against his cheek. The room falls silent in shock and I shake away the unsettling feeling of being watched as I slowly pull his face down to mine. Our lips meet in a soft kiss and that alone sends heat rushing through my body. I have to resist the urge to pull him closer.

I pull away, smiling slightly at the look of awe on his face. Taking one of his hands in my own I ask, "Can we talk in private for a minute?"

He nods, his blonde curls bobbing as I lead him outside.

* * *

**Well, there ya have it. Chapter 14 is now complete...  
**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and I would love to hear what you guys thought. :) **

**Happy reading, everyone! **


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